


I Don't Want To Change You

by heavydiirtysoul



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Smut, Multi, Slow Burn, Smut, ace!josh, joshler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavydiirtysoul/pseuds/heavydiirtysoul
Summary: "Wherever you areWell, know that I adore you -No matter how farWell, I can go before you.And if ever you need someone,Well, not that you need helping...But if ever you want someoneI know that I am willing."Falling in love with the soothing voice of a faceless stranger through miles and miles of phone lines wasn't exactly what Josh had planned. But then again, not a lot in his life has ever gone the way he expected it to.





	1. silence.

His mind is hazy with alcohol, and he knows he's probably stumbling and slurring his words, but the girl in his arm doesn't seem to mind.

They're on the dance floor, music pumping loud enough to make his heart synch with the rhythm of the baseline, and Josh shouts along the lyrics to a song he somehow remembers the words to, even though he can't recall the title and artist. 

The girl is clinging to his chest, hands roaming his upper body, and when she yells into his ear, asking him to leave the place and go have some fun elsewhere, Josh just laughs and pulls her away from the crowd of sweaty, singing people and towards the exit of the club.

The street outside is just as busy, and he has his arm thrown around the shoulders of whats-her-name lazily, thoughts slow and too fast at the same time, spinning in his head weirdly, and the girl has said something but Josh isn't listening. 

He finally pushes her up against the door, kissing sloppily as he fumbles for his keys, and the door opens with a pitiful creak. Wooden stairs, and they're stumbling onto the bed, and his shirt is off, and her hands are warm and clammy and Josh is grossed out, but ignores it because this is how it's supposed to go, right?

She's shoving her hands down his pants, and he squirms uncomfortably, head heavy and clouded as he shrugs out of his clothes, he's hard somehow, and she's naked already – _when did that happen?_ – pressing her chest to his while she's jacking him off.

She eventually climbs on top of him, riding him with rolling hips, and Josh is hypnotized, frozen in place, staring, and before he realizes it, he's coming, her movements spluttering to a halt as she cocks an eyebrow at him. 

"Did you really already come? Fuck, man."

Her hair is sticking to her forehead, she's sweaty and glistening ~~gross~~ and Josh stares when she gets up, throws some angry words around while getting dressed, and he still hasn't said a word.

She's gone, the bedroom is empty except for Josh on the bed, heaving, and he's never felt dirtier in his life.

*** 

The sun is piercing his eyes violently, and he groans and squeezes them shut again.

He's still naked, the sheets stick to his body, and he shuffles uncomfortably, pounding headache killing each and every idea of being productive today.

Eventually, he manages to crawl out of bed, flashing images of the last night intruding his mind.

His first cup of coffee is lost in the swirl of water of the toilet bowl, and for a few moments, he just kneels there, head resting on the rim of the seat, cold tiles against his skin, stomach acid burning in his throat.

He regrets many things in life, but last night has to be top of the list right now.

At least you're not a virgin anymore, he tries to convince himself, so maybe it wasn't all useless.

The thought doesn't quite ring true, and Josh puffs his cheeks, angry with himself. What a stupid fucking idea it had been, and of course, he had to go through with it. As if getting drunk and randomly hooking up with a stranger ever brought anything good for anyone, he scolds silently, brows furrowed as his fingernails dig into the calloused skin of his palms, and he kind of wants to punch himself in the face.

His second cup of coffee stays in his stomach where it belongs, and Josh risks munching on a dry bread roll because there's nothing else left in his apartment to eat, and he can't remember ever having felt more miserable in his life.

Thankfully, time flies by with no further vomit incidents, and when the sun starts to set, Josh hasn't moved away from the couch even once. The TV has been on all day, and he's been switching channels without actually watching, the day dripping away like thick soil from a broken car engine. He's wallowing in self pity, and he hates himself for it, but he can't stop either.

He finally forces himself up to have a shower, and the water is too hot but he needs it that way, the burning heat on his skin peeling away the disgusting sensation of Her still on his body, and he feels kind of cleansed afterwards.

He doesn't dry off properly, flopping back on the couch in nothing but a pair of fresh boxers and sweatpants, skin glistening. He needs the feeling of still being clean, still being wet... Just in case.

His phone had been forgotten on the coffee table up until now. He reaches for it and checks for new messages. 

**(1) Unread**

He sighs and opens the text. It's from Kieran, just a few words.

_You okay, dude?_

Josh quickly types an answer.

_not really_

He gets an immediate reply.

_On my way. Stay put._

His phone runs out of battery, and Josh is too lazy to get up and look for the charger, so he just stays where he is and waits for Kieran to come over.


	2. automatic.

Kieran has had a spare key for Josh's apartment for over a year now, and Josh doesn't even bother to get up to greet him, he just listens to him move through the apartment, getting something from the fridge (beer, probably), and finally flopping down on the couch next to Josh.

„Yo.“

„Hey.“

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Kieran sipping on his beer lazily while zapping through the channels, and Josh is almost dozing off as his voice cuts the quiet between them.

„So, what happened?“

Josh shifts uncomfortably, reaching for the untouched second bottle of beer on the table in front of him, popping it open in silence.

„You left early. With a girl.“

It's not a question, but Josh nods anyways.

„I take it that didn't go as planned?“

Josh just huffs, and he knows Kieran is getting impatient with him from the way his fingers have started tapping fast rhythms on the fabric of the couch. It's Josh's pet peeve, but Kieran never actually tried to stop, even when Josh had begged him to.

„Dude, start talking before I beat it out of you.“

Josh shrinks away under the harsh words. Sometimes he isn't quite sure what had drawn him to Kieran initially, but they've been hanging out for so long that Josh is just used to him by now. 

Having Kieran is better than being alone, after all.

„I took her home, we.. you know. Did the thing.“

„ _Did the thing_ “, Kieran mocks Josh's voice, derogatory, „you shouldn't be allowed to fuck if you can't even say it out loud.“

Josh shrugs it off, pretends he isn't horribly uncomfortable talking about it in the first place.

„It wasn't that spectacular, I don't know why everyone's so obsessed with, uh, fucking. Sex, I mean. It's not that good, I think.“

„Yeah, and Taco Bell hasn't been the best invention of the last twenty centuries, right.“

Kieran is mocking again, and Josh rolls his eyes.

„Could you not be a dick for, like, ten minutes? Please?“

His voice must've sounded more urgent than he'd wanted to, because Kieran leans back and presses his lips together in a thin line.

„Fine. Talk, then.“

Josh nods, takes a huge sip of his beer, gulps it down. He doesn't know why he's still putting up with K, but he starts talking just as he's been told.

„I was super drunk, you know? Wanted to get it over with. Because you and Jess, and like, everyone around me is always talking about all the damn sex they're having. I just felt left out. And now I kinda regret it.“

He falls silent after the confession, anxiously waiting for Kieran to say something, mock him again, laugh at him.

„Yeah, well. Maybe I was right all along and you're just fucking gay.“

Josh furrows his brows and gives Kieran a stern look.

„What the fuck, man?“

„Really though, Josh. Look at you. Girls were never really your thing. And that 'relationship' with Laura way back when? Don't tell me that didn't suck.“

It doesn't happen often, but Kieran is right. Laura had been a necessary evil, somehow, and Josh doesn't quite remember why they had dated in the first place. They didn't have any similar interests, she had a different circle of friends, and their conversations mainly revolved around the only class they shared.

Maybe Kieran had a point, after all, Josh muses, though he can't remember ever having felt attracted to a guy before.

„I really don't know, Kieran“, he eloquently says, and Kieran just waves it off.

„Yeah, whatever, Josh. Maybe the girl was just really bad in bed, it happens to the best of us. Don't fret, just keep trying. Next weekend, alright? There's this new club opening downtown, and I got Jess to sign us up for the guest list.“

Josh nods, even though he could think of about a hundred things off of the top of his head that he'd rather do than have another night out in some random club with music he didn't like and people he despised.

„Cool“, Kieran mumbles and resumes gulping down his beer.

 

When he leaves, Josh sighs loudly with relief, glad that he's finally alone again.

He pops open his laptop, and the familiar google logo appears. He isn't even sure what exactly he wants to look up, so he randomly browses a few of his usual websites – Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, but nothing interesting is happening on either of those sites, and he soon ends up refreshing his dashboard over and over again.

A new post appears, and Josh's interest gets sparked.

„Out And Proud“, it says, in bold Arial, on a picture of a rainbow flag.

He's never really thought about his sexuality, but the fact that even Kieran brought it up has him thinking.

What if he was gay, after all?

The thought is weird, and Josh finds himself spiraling downwards into a relentless circle of questioning his whole existence.

When he eventually gets knocked out by a troubled sleep, tainted with nightmares of faceless girls grabbing him, pushing him, laughing in his face, the sun is already rising, and the few hours of sleep on his couch grant him no rest.


	3. disgrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so reader discretion is definitely advised!!   
> there's mentions of rape/non-con in this chapter, and it gets a lil graphic, so please, please be careful. 
> 
> i'm going to put '****' in front of the part so you can skip it if necessary.

The week drips away slowly, but surely, and the much dreaded Saturday night is hanging over his head like a dark cloud.

When the day finally comes, Josh is surprised that he's actually kind of excited – he's spent all week working his ass off at the local record store, and the perspective of getting to dance it away tonight was much less appaling than he had initially assumed.

Josh doesn't care too much about clothes or style or fashion or whatever people liked to call it these days, so he just goes with whatever he pulls out of his closet that evening.

Upon his arrival at the adress Kieran had texted him earlier, he immediately regrets that decision.

Kieran is wearing a blazer over a white shirt and black skinny jeans, Jess is dolled up as always with a tight sparkling dress and high heels, and Josh feels utterly underdressed in his plain grey vest, snapback and ripped jeans.

„Yo, you look _fine_ “, Kieran belts out with frustration for what feels like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, trying to calm down Josh, who was internally on the brink of a mental breakdown. 

Jess rolls her eyes and lights a cigarette, exhaling the smoke straight into Josh's face, and nods.

"He's right. Maybe you'll stand out a bit, but that's good. You could probably score a girl that way. ... Though, I actually doubt it."

She's smiling, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. Josh isn't sure if she's trying to joke or if the whole thing is just an insult hidden behind a facade of being funny.

Everyone would stare at him. They would think he was weird. They'd keep looking and would whisper about the strange guy who showed up in clothes like that. What a _freak_.

His heart is jumping and racing in his chest, his hands are already sweaty, and he's sure he's going to pass out.

„I look so _wrong_. Just let me go home to get changed, K, please!“

„If you don't stop complaining I'll get you home myself, and you won't like that at all“, Kieran mutters through gritted teeth before putting up a bright smile – they had made it to the end of the line, and the security guy is tall and ripped enough to be able to kill them with one finger, Josh thinks and hides behind Kieran.

„Hey, I'm Kieran Wesley, those are Jessica Parker and Josh Dun. We're on the list?“

The security guy shuffles through his various papers, then nods, frown still on his face, but he pulls back the curtains and lets them in.

Josh is swallowed immediately by hot, steamy air, bright flashing lights and pumping baselines, and the music is loud enough to make conversation close to impossible – and they haven't even made it to the main room yet.

He shoves his sweaty hands into the pockets of his jeans and follows Kieran and Jess silently, who fight their way through the crowd to the bar, ordering shots. The music is mind-numbingly loud in here, and Josh can't feel his own heartbeat anymore.

Jess is waving to someone in the crowd and darts off without a word of goodbye, and Josh is alone with Kieran.

Or rather, as alone as someone can be in a club crowded enough to let his anxiety fire up to unknown heights.

He clings to his friend for most of the night, sipping down drink after drink, nervously fiddling with the straws in his cocktails, smiling awkwardly when Kieran introduces him to various guys and girls he doesn't even bother to try and remember the names of, and he doesn't notice the effects of the alcohol until it's too late.

Stumbling towards the restrooms, he has to steady himself on various walls on his way to make sure he doesn't stumble and fall, and when he finally makes it into one of the cabins, he sits down for a few moments, head in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees.

He's fucking wasted, and his head is spinning.

The raging knocks on the door startle him out of his hazy, alcohol-induced half-sleep, and he can hear Kieran yell frustrated profanities through the door.

„Open up, asshole! Are you okay in there?! Dude, open the fucking door!“

If he didn't know better, Josh would say Kieran is actually worried.

The door unlocks with a click, and he lets Kieran rush into the small cabin, and before he knows it, Kieran has him pinned against the dirty, cold tiles of the restroom wall.

The door is shoved shut with force, lock turned. He's caught like a rat in a trap.

„Fuck, man, I was worried sick“, Kieran slurs, and his face is close enough for Josh to choke on the booze-tainted breath against his mouth. 

Kieran is only slightly taller than Josh is, but right now, he could as well be as tall as a mountain, towering over him, locking him in a cage made of muscular arms and furrowed brows in a face that should be familiar, but seems weirdly distorted through the curtain of alcohol clouding his mind.

Josh shrinks, he's as small as a mouse, and just as defenseless.

„You should really make this up to me, Josh“, Kieran mutters, and wet, sloppy lips are on Josh's neck, and he shivers with disgust.

„Get away from me“, Josh whines, trying to push Kieran away, but his hands against the other's chest only seem to fuel him more.

„Come on, you said it yourself, maybe you're gay. I'm your best friend, right? We should totally make out. You'll love it.“

*****

Josh wants to scream, wants to run, but arms are holding him firm in place and he can't move, can't breathe, he's suffocating and scared and Kieran is all over him, rough hands tearing open Josh's jeans, a wet, slick tongue shoved down his throat, and Josh feels like puking. 

He can feel his adam's apple bob against the chokehold of Kieran's hand around it. 

There's a small spider on the ceiling. Josh watches as it crawls along the dirty paint lazily, unpestered by the violence below.

Is it violence if he has stopped fighting already?

He waits for a reply, but the spider doesn't answer, it just keeps crawling. What a rude spider, Josh thinks as Kieran's hands slip under his shirt.

There are girls talking outside, and one of them laughs, a dry, coarse laugh. 

There are people having fun out there, dancing, singing, and he has a hand down his pants and he can hear them laugh, so close yet miles and miles away.

He closes his eyes, let's his head fall back against the tiles, forces himself to leave this place in his mind, imagines fields of wildflowers and a sunset and silence, comforting silence, and he can feel hot tears on his cheeks, but he keeps quiet and doesn't move, and Kieran takes the last of his defenses and breaks him down until he's not himself anymore, until there is nothing left of him except an empty space and hollow breaths in a hollow chest.

When he opens his eyes again, the spider is gone, and Josh feels alone. He briefly wonders if he should go and look for it, make sure nobody steps on it. Spiders are fragile, and he doesn't want it to get hurt.

He manages to stumble out of the stall, his jeans put back on neatly by soft hands that were much more gentle than they had been before.

„You can't tell anyone, Josh, okay? They'll think you're disgusting. Letting yourself get fucked in a dirty club restroom like the pathetic whore you are. And you liked it, didn't you? So, no talking. Keep it on the low. We don't want people to know just how repulsive you _really_ are, right?“

Lips were pressed to his, Josh wants to cry again, and Kieran is gone, just like the spider.


	4. prisoner.

His whole body is numb when he wakes up in the morning.

He gets up, completely on autopilot, fixes himself a bowl of cereal, eats it.

Downs a cup of coffee, and then another, and a third.

The shower doesn't make him feel cleaner this time, it only burns his skin and clouds his mind, fingertips ghosting over the purple marks on his throat, and he flinches.

It hurts.

He hurts.

All over.

His tears join the countless drops of water spilling from the shower head, and he doesn't realize he's crying until he breaks down, his body collapsing to the ground, sitting in the hot stream, water pounding on his shoulders and head and he swallows some, chokes, coughs.

He can't tell how long he's been sitting here, but the water starts to get cold, and he's shaking, gasping for air, drowning, and the goosebumps on his skin feel weird under his palms as he keeps pressing circles into his arms, into his stomach, and before he can get up, he's vomiting all over himself. 

He's never felt more disgusting in his life, his stomach contents spilled everywhere, and he's crawling out of the cabin, heaving, curling together into a ball on the mat in front of the shower.

Sleep doesn't come, so he keeps lying there, naked and only held together by the fragile safety of the noisy water still running.

His phone is buzzing in the living room, he can hear it through the splashes of water, but he's too tired to get up.

 

After what seems like hours, he finally feels stable enough to push himself up, sitting with his back against the tiles, wiping away the remains of his vomit with toilet paper before washing it off in the sink, and he risks turning off the shower.

The silence is louder than ever.

He sprints into his living room, drops of glistening water spluttering everywhere, naked feet patting on the wooden floor, turns on the radio, and music fills the room. It doesn't make anything better, but at least the silence isn't that eminent anymore.

His phone is lying on the coffee table like a threat, and he doesn't dare to even look at it. Instead, he reaches for his laptop, pulls up the browser, refreshes his dashboard, and a text post pops up.

Suicide help hotlines, various other numbers for each state to call if you're feeling depressed or have problems.

Maybe it's a sign.

Maybe it's just a coincidence.

Either way, it's exactly what he needs.

He grabs his phone, deletes the notifications for countless missed calls from Kieran, doesn't look at the texts, just dials the number listed for his state, and the familiar free line signal immediately lets his anxiety light up.

He hangs up before anyone can answer on the other end of the line.

The procedure is repeated several times, his heart pounding out of his chest, lightheaded, trying to convince himself that it will be alright, that nobody will try to hurt him, that he's safe, but he fails.

With a growl of frustration, Josh throws the phone across the room, and it crashes against the wall, breaking into numerous pieces, and the buzzing sound of an incoming call dies down at once.

For a few minutes, he sits on his couch, face buried in his hands, breathing heavily.

What a waste of space he was, not even able to call a fucking help line.

He's still naked, he realizes, and he slips into a pair of boxers and sweatpants thrown messily across the couch.

Eventually, he scrolls down his dashboard, eyes scanning over the reblogs and notes on the post, and there it is – the last reblog, and there's a link added to a site where you can chat with someone.

_For people who can't talk on the phone!_ , it says, and a tiny heart next to it, and Josh follows the link.

A chat window pops up, and he can feel his heart rate pick up again. 

Ridiculous, he scolds himself, but he stays on the page.

Someone is typing, the window reads, and suddenly, a message appears.

**Hi, I'm Tyler. I'm a volunteer at Trevor, and you can talk to me. I'm here to help.**

Josh stares.

A minute later, another message pops up.

**Is anyone there? What do you need me to do to help?**

Josh whinces. As if he knew the answer to that.

His fingers hesitate, ghosting over the keyboard, and then he types.

_hi_

**Hey there. What's your name?**

_josh_

**Hello, Josh. I'm Tyler. It's nice to meet you.**

_thanks_

**How can I help you, Josh?**

_i don't know_

There's a pause for a few seconds, as if the other person is hesitating, then they are typing again.

**Maybe we can talk about some other things first.**

Josh thinks, nods even though the other man can't see him.

_yeah that would be cool_

**Alright. How old are you? Or, anything else you want to tell me about yourself?**

_can we talk about you first_

Another pause. Longer, this time, as if Tyler is calculating.

**Sure. I'm Tyler, as I said. I've been working for the Trevor Project for a few months now. They used to help me a lot when I was younger, so I wanted to give something back.**

_that sounds really cool_

_what do you do there all day_

**I'm actually at home. Whenever I have free time, I sit down at my laptop and talk to people.**

_people like me_

_fucked up people_

**You're not fucked up, Josh.**

_yes i am_

_im fucked up and pathetic and im only wasting your time im sorry_

He slams the laptop shut, and it dies down with a pitiful squeaky noise.

As if Tyler had any idea, Josh fumes, pacing around his flat, hands kneading his arms, nails digging into his skin, as if some fucking stranger on the internet could help him in any way.

Pathetic and fucked up, a waste of time, Josh thinks, he really got that one down to a notch.


	5. an act of kindness.

It only takes him three days to realize that he can't do it on his own.

He's still numb on the first day, going to work as if nothing had happened, sorting records, having small-talk with his boss, and then the song sets in and Josh's subconscious picks up the familiar baseline before he can do anything about it.

On shaky legs and with clammy hands, Josh excuses himself to the bathroom.

He barely makes it there in time, tears burning in his eyes, and he chokes up saliva and acid and what has his life come to?

 

He's starting to feel again on the second day.

Work is slow, and he has time to think, and it's not doing him any good.

His mind is occupied with vague pictures and sentiments of hands on his skin and dark eyes and the spider crawling into his body and dying there, and he calls his boss to tell her he's going home.

 

On day three, he calls in sick and stays in bed, clutching at the sheets, pulling them close enough to suffocate him, steal his breath, because maybe if he just does it long enough he'll pass out from lack of oxygen and his mind will stop torturing him for even just one minute.

Just one minute.

His fingernails are digging hard into his thigh as he crawls out of bed, he needs the pain to make sure he's here, he's real, he's alive, he's alone, noone can hurt him except himself. 

The website from last time is in his bookmarks, and he crawls back into the shelter and warmth of his bed, propping the laptop up on his legs.

Trying doesn't hurt, he thinks, and the chat window pops up.

_tyler?_

**No, this is Sebastian. Do you want me to get Tyler?**

Josh hesitates, then his fingers type the answer for him.

_yes please_

**Stay here. I'll connect him if he's free.**

If he's free, Josh repeats in his mind anxiously, god, please be free. 

**Josh?**

_yes_

**It's me. Tyler.**

_thank god_

**I'm glad you decided to come back.**

_me too_

Josh hesitates again, fingers shaking. He's thinking. Tyler seems to be waiting for him to make the first move.

_i need help_

**Okay. Do you want to talk about what happened?**

_no_

**That's alright. This conversation happens on your terms, and your terms alone. Tell me what you need, Josh.**

_talk to me_

_tell me it will be okay_

_lie if you need_

**I don't need to lie to you, Josh. You will be better. You will be fine, eventually. It takes time and work and the way back up can be hard, but you're not alone.**

_okay_

**Asking for help has been a first step in the right direction. And even if you can't talk about what has happened to you yet, I promise I will be here for you if you need me to be, and I'm going to do whatever possible to help you feel better.**

Josh doesn't feel the tears on his cheeks, doesn't even realize he's crying again, and he wipes the tears away carelessly, eyes focused on the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard.

_but it seems so hopeless tyler_

_i keep fucking up and i cant even do my job and my boss looked at me weird and im scared she will ask what happened and i cant talk about it i cant tell anyone or he will hurt me_

_i called in sick today and she didnt sound too worried but what if i lose my job_

_or what if he visits me there_

_i dont know if i can ever look him in the eyes again_

Tyler has been silent for the time Josh has been typing, but now the familiar 'typing' sign pops up again. Josh waits, and he's anxious. He's already said too much.

**He can't hurt you right now. This is a safe space.**

Josh grunts. What a textbook answer.

**Is there any way you can tell your boss that someone has been hurting you in a way that is comfortable for you? I'm sure she will help and make sure your work becomes a safe space, too.**

The thought of talking to her about something like that scares the living shit out of Josh, and he can feel his hands become sweaty with fear.

_i cant do that no_

**Okay. Is there anyone you feel safe enough around to ask them to keep an eye out for you? Someone you can text when things get worse?**

_no_

**… Give me a minute. I have an idea.**

Tyler disappears, and Josh only grows more nervous.

Suddenly, a phone number pops up in the chat window.

**You can text me.**

_why are you doing this_

**Because I am familiar with your situation, and I would've needed someone to do this for me back then. So now I'm doing it for you, Josh.**

Josh is stunned.

He doesn't reply, and a moment later, another message appears.

**You're worth it, Josh. You deserve to be happy and safe, and if I can help you get there, I will.**

A sob is startled out of him, and he blinks away the tears as he types his reply.

_thank you tyler_


	6. relapse.

_hey tyler_

 

**Hey, Josh. Are you okay?**

 

_yes_

_i just wanted to text you_

_work is slow and noone is here except me_

 

**How are you feeling? Is your day going well?**

 

_im bored and scared that i start thinking again so i texted you_

_my day is good we got a bunch of new records that im listening to_

_how is your day_

 

**Quite good. I'm sitting at work and I don't have too much to do either.**

**Looking forward to band practice tonight.**

 

_what do you work as_

_i didnt know you had a band_

 

**I work at a library. Administration, mostly. Nothing exciting really.**

**Yeah, it's just a hobby. But fun. I'm the singer.**

**We actually put out an album a few months ago, got us some nice gigs around here.**

 

_i work at a record store_

_maybe i know your band_

 

**I doubt it.**

**We're not that big.**

 

_what are you called maybe we have your cd here we have a lot of smaller indie artists_

 

**Twenty One Pilots.**

 

Josh tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jeans when a lone customer enters.

„Can I help you?“

„No, thank you. I'm just browsing.“

„Alright. Let me know if there's anything you need.“

The girl nods and Josh leaves her be. 

He can't be on his phone while there are customers around, so he decides to instead go on a quest to find Tyler's band. 

He types the name into his computer, and to his surprise, something actually pops up.

The stack of dusty EPs and albums of smaller bands in the back of the shop looks sad and lonely, and Josh brings the feather duster with him, trying to maintain a low profile while quickly cleaning the records.

It's a self-titled album, but Josh doesn't know what the cover looks like, so it takes him a good ten minutes until he finds the record.

The cover is white with a pen drawing on it. A man on a bed, a destroyed ceiling fan above him, and he's bleeding colors over colors.

Josh is briefly reminded of the countless nights he's spent in his own bed like this, contemplating, but never having the guts to... 

He stops himself right there.

Instead, he carefully gets out his phone, typing a quick text to Tyler, eyes darting over to the girl to make sure she isn't watching.

 

_found it_

 

The bell on the door signals that the customer has left, and Josh exhales audibly, sprinting over to the old record player behind the counter, and he puts on Tyler's music.

A soothing piano melody fills the room, and Josh lets his eyes fall close.

Violins are setting in, and Josh is lost, fading away into the music, and he can't recall ever having listened to a melody as sad and hopeful at the same time. He can't quite put a finger to it, but it hits a note deep inside him that he hasn't heard in a long time.

The melody changes, and suddenly it's more, it's a lot, and he feels his heart pick up with the elctronical beat and the steady rhythm that follows, and then Tyler starts singing.

His voice is rougher, scratchy, more high-pitched than what Josh had expected, and it's not flawless or autotuned like most artists, it's raw and real and Josh smiles.

„Rain down, and destroy me...“ 

Josh gets his phone out again, then scans over the jewel case of the record. Implicit Demand For Proof, it reads, and he texts Tyler.

 

_you have quite the voice on you_

 

**Thank you.**

 

_and good lyrics_

_who writes them_

 

**I do.**

 

_oh_

 

Josh isn't sure why that gets to him so much, but somehow, he feels more connected to Tyler now, listening to the pure emotion pouring into each melody and verse, and when Tyler starts singing Fall Away, Josh texts him again.

 

_im sorry_

 

**For what?**

 

_for what you've gone through_

 

**What do you mean?**

 

_people don't write poetry like that when they haven't seen stuff_

 

Tyler doesn't reply, and Josh feels shivers of cold anxiety roll down his spine.

 

_m sorry i shouldnt have said that tyler im sorry i wasnt thinking_

_please answer me tyler im sorry_

 

**No, Josh, it's okay. I shouldn't have been surprised that you would pick up on it. Sorry I didn't reply.**

 

A warm wave of relief washes over him, and Josh leans back against the counter.

 

_i still shouldn't have been so intrusive thats not cool_

 

**If I ask you to be honest with me, you can ask the same of me.**

 

Josh raises his eyebrows in surprise.

 

_what do you mean_

 

**I mean, if I expect honesty, I shouldn't try and close myself off. It doesn't work that way. I want to be honest with you, too.**

 

Josh doesn't know what to reply, and he's saved by the bell of the door.

He makes his way around the counter, shoving his phone back into his pockets, and looks up to greet the new customer.

„Hi, what can I -“

His body goes limp, and his eyes dart back to the floor, heart stopping for the tiniest second, then beating fast enough for Josh to think he might have a heart attack.

„Hey, Josh“, Kieran says.


	7. breathless.

The world jumps out of its orbit.

Josh can't hear Kieran speak through the incredible noise of his own blood rushing through his ears, into his head, and he's sure his brain is trying to squeeze itself out of his eye sockets.

He can hear cars drive down the street in the distance, the muffled sound of Tyler's music flat and forgotten in his subconscious, and Kieran is weirdly out of focus as Josh's eyes land on him.

His legs are wobbly, eyes wide, and he reaches back to steady himself against the counter, afraid that he'd break down and split open his skull on it if he can't find anything to hold onto.

But right now, cracking his head open seems like a favorable notion, he thinks, and he's smiling like an idiot, why am I smiling? 

The phone in his pocket is burning hot, his flesh is peeling off his bones, and Kieran is still talking, and Josh's vision starts getting blurry. 

He's laughing, and then he's screaming.

„Get away from me!“, he screams, he's loud, or is he even saying anything? He's not too sure, but he keeps yelling, tears wet on his face, and Kieran backs off, he backs off, and Josh breathes sharply, every inch that he backs off is a victory.

His inappropriate giggle still hasn't stopped, he's heaving throaty laughs, it's ridiculous, it's ridiclous, you are ridiculous, stop laughing, you freak. Am I having a mental breakdown?

Maybe he's finally going insane.

He's definitely looking like a maniac, laughing, crying, screaming. Or maybe he's frozen still, he can't tell.

His boss enters the store.

She scans the room, sees Josh, shaking, trembling like half-dead leaves on a naked tree in autumn, sees this random stranger, and Josh looks scared, eyes wild and unfocused, and she doesn't ask, doesn't try to understand, she just does.. something... is he gone? 

Is he gone?

Josh's vision goes black.

 

 

Bright neon lights pierce his eyes.

White ceiling, white curtains, white schemes ghosting in his peripheral vision, muffled voices.

He's still sleepy, but he forces his eyes to stay open.

„Wher'm I?“

„Oh, Mr. Dun, you're awake. Welcome back! I'm Dr. Trevor Cain, and you're at the Mercy West. Your boss brought you in, you lost consciousness after what we assume was a panic attack.“

Josh wants to shake his head. Ridiculous. People don't pass out because of panic attacks. _He_ didn't pass out because of panic attacks.

He can't remember anything from yesterday, but before he can investigate this curious find, the voice interrupts his scattered thoughts.

„I need to ask you a few questions about your medical history, do you feel good enough for that?“

He's blinking and slightly nodding, and apparently that suffices, because the Doctor starts going through a long list of questions, and Josh struggles to answer them all. Some he simply doesn't know the answer to, and a nurse keeps patting on his arm, meant to be calming, probably, but Josh just feels violated.

„St- stop toushing mee.“

He's slurring, the sleeping meds he's been given still not completely worn off, but the nurse understands and lets him be.

Finally.

After what feels like hours of torturous questioning, the Doctor leaves and Josh is on his own again.

His belongings are laid out on the table neatly, and he lets his heavy hand crawl across the surface to get his phone.

3 missed calls, 26 unread texts.

He's afraid they might be from Kieran, but maybe they're from Tyler, and for a few minutes, he just toys with the phone absent-mindedly.

Some images are coming back, slowly, faded as if seen through thick fog. 

Kieran in the store.

The heart rate monitor picks up with a start, his pulse thumping in his ear.

The nurse rushes in again, shakes her head, takes his phone away.

„You should rest“, she says, and she messes with something outside of his view, and he can feel his arm grow colder for a second.

There's an IV in his arm, he notices without caring too much, and then sleep takes him again.

 

**Josh?**

**Josh, please answer.**

**Maybe you're just busy working, I'm sorry. I'll leave you be.**

**Get back to me when you're off work.**

**Josh, I'm starting to get worried.**

**Can you please reply to me?**

**Anything. Just let me know you are okay.**

**Josh**

**Josh? Please**

**Fuck, Josh, come on!**

**Josh, I'm calling you now. Please pick up?**

**I just want to know you are okay.**

**I'm worried sick, please answer me!**

**Pick up your damn phone, Josh!!**

**Fuck, fuck, fuck**

**Please tell me you didn't do anything to yourself**

**Josh please tell me you're okay please tell me you didn't**

**Please**

**I'm going to call you again, okay?**

**I need to know that you're alive. I just need to know**

**Please don't be gone**

**Josh**

**Josh please**

**If you don't want to talk to me anymore, that's okay.**

**I just want to know you're safe**

**Please pick up your phone.**

**Please don't be gone.**


	8. warmth.

„Mr. Dun?“

The voice startles him, and Josh almost jumps out of his skin.

„I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.“

The nurse looks guilty. It's a new girl, not the one from before. She's younger, softer, and Josh immediately likes her.

„It's okay. I was just asleep.“

„But still, I shouldn't've...“

She trails off, then seems to gather her thoughts, straightens her back, clears her throat. Josh can't help the soft smile – she's definitely new to the job, and she's trying really hard to be professional.

„Anyways. I'm Katie, and I'm here to take a blood sample, and when we have the results, and, uh, if they look good, I've been told you can go home. That's good news!“

Josh's smile deepens, but then thoughts are intruding, thoughts of how Kieran could be waiting for him, and he shifts uncomfortably, suddenly unsure if he even wants to go home. The hospital seems a lot safer than his own apartment right now.

His phone buzzes with an incoming text, and the nurse shoots a quick glance to the table.

„I'm not going to keep you long.“

Josh nods and let's her go about her work – she draws his blood with unsure hands, but manages to find a vein on first try, and she's beaming with pride.

„Alright, that's it!“, she finally says, gathering her things and rushing out of the room with a quick wave of her free hand.

For a moment, Josh just sits, thoughts going nowhere in particular, and then his phone buzzes again.

He picks it up with clammy hands – he's not sure if he could deal with even just reading that one particular name, but maybe it's Tyler and he can't even begin to imagine what he's put the other through with his sudden disappearing act. 

The cold sensation of guilt settling into his bones and making itself at home sends shivers down his spine.

There's a whole armada of texts, and he quickly goes through all of them.

His heart is sinking with every text, each one more and more desperate, and when he finally gets to the last one, Josh is sobbing.

With shaky hands, he types a reply.

 

_im so sorry tyler im so so sorry please dont hate me_

 

He isn't even awake for ten minutes and already being pathetic. Josh isn't sure if that's a new record or if he's just getting better at realizing what a wreck he is. 

Tyler's reply tears him out of his self-pity.

 

**JOSH**

**I'M SO GLAD YOURE OKAY**

**Don't be sorry. I'm sure you had good reasons**

**I could never hate you.**

 

_not really a good one_

_m in hospital_

 

**Oh, gosh.**

**What happened?**

 

_he walked into my work_

 

**Fuck**

**Did he hurt you?**

 

_no_

_yes_

_idk_

 

**It's okay. You're safe now. Are the doctors treating you well? What did they say?**

 

Tyler is all professional, and Josh is glad that at least one of them is keeping his cool. He's already on the brink of crying again, a soft curtain of tears glazing his eyes and making it hard to type. 

He's also glad Tyler doesn't ask for details of what happened, because Josh isn't sure if he would be able to go through it again.

 

_yes they are_

_they said it was a panic attack_

_i didnt know i could pass out because of them_

_im sorry for worrying you_

 

**Good.**

**You don't have to apologize, Josh. It wasn't your fault.**

**Can I call you?**

 

Josh whimpers. The thought of talking to anyone right now is scary, and he doesn't want to break down while on the phone with Tyler.

 

_no_

_im sorry_

 

**It's alright. You're allowed to say no, I will never pressure you.**

 

_thank you_

_i might get discharged today_

 

**That's great!**

**Will you be safe when you go home?**

 

_idk_

_i hope_

_im gonna take a cab_

 

**That's good. I'm glad to hear you're okay.**

 

_yeah_

 

**Text me when there's news?**

 

_yes i will_

 

**Thank you. Get some rest now, okay?**

 

_yes_

_thank you tyler_

 

Josh tucks his phone under his pillow, his hand still holding onto it as he settles back into the sheets. He's not sure when exactly Tyler's texts have become such a reassuring safety for him, but he's too tired to question it.

 

_m glad i found you_

**Me too, Joshie. I'm always here when you need me.**

 

The nickname makes him smile, and for the first time in weeks, he drifts away into a sleep void of nightmares.


	9. violation.

The nurse is back after only a few hours, and the smile on her face is hint enough for Josh to know that he's going to be on his way home in a few hours.

He distracts himself with some small talk with Katie as they fill out the necessary forms for his discharge, and she walks him through the papers that will be send to Josh's primary care physician.

"He might want to schedule a follow up appointment with you to talk about possible medications for your anxiety," Katie says, and she gives him a quick glance. "Will that be okay with you?"

Josh nods, even though he isn't sure if he really wants to talk to anyone about his anxiety. He feels surprisingly okay with talking about it with Katie, though, so maybe he can give it a try.

Katie ticks a box on the form, then sighs quietly.

"It's scary, isn't it?"

Her voice has changed a bit, and Josh cocks an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"Illnesses you can't really see. I know I've gone through training and everything, but it's still a scary thought to me. Like fighting shadows."

Josh isn't sure what to say to that. He's never thought about his anxiety as an illnesses, just as another reason why he's a damn fuckup.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No, it – it's okay, I think. I mean, I don't know what your boss would say, but I sure as heck won't tell."

Katie smiles slightly, relaxing a bit. Josh is still uncertain about the situation.

"I've only worked here for three weeks, it's all still really new. But you've been a great patient. No throwing feces and everything, so that's progress for me!"

Josh's eyes grow wide and he slaps his hand over his mouth.

"That really happened?!"

Before he has time to realize what's going on they are laughing, holding their stomachs and gasping for air, because working in a hospital can apparently be unbelievably ridiculous and Katie is a great storyteller, and when she eventually leaves, her number has been saved in his phone.

 

Josh doesn't have a lot of stuff with him, and he's leaving in the same clothes he's worn yesterday. It's weird, and he tries to not think about it too much. His mouth feels like an animal has crawled in there to die, and he yearns desperately for a toothbrush.. Or a peppermint gum, at least.

The receptionist calls a cab for him, and a few minutes later, he's on his way home. 

He tries to text Tyler, but his phone has run out of battery.

Fortunately, the ride home doesn't take too long, and Josh sprints up the stairs as if the devil is on his heels. He can't bear to be outside for longer than a few moments, the mere thought of possibly running into Kieran speeding up his pulse and making his hands shake.

As he slams the door shut, he lets out the breath he's been holding. His apartment doesn't feel safe anymore, but it's still better than being out in the open for prying eyes to see.

He plugs in his phone, nervously waiting for the screen to light up, and finally, the familiar flicker calms his racing heart.

 

_m home_

 

**Great! How are you feeling?**

 

_anxious_

_he has a key so thats not good_

 

**I didn't know that.**

**Can you call a locksmith to change the lock?**

 

_i didnt think of that yet_

_m gonna google one_

 

**That's a good idea. Tell them it's an emergency, they'll be quicker that way.**

 

Josh makes his way to the bedroom to pick up his laptop when something catches his eye.

His sweatpants aren't where he left them, and the light in the bathroom is on.

It feels like a rock is crashing down on him, crushing him until he's nothing but shattered bones, and he's so small, so helpless, tears of fear burning in his eyes, frozen in place like a deer in headlights.

He's trapped and there is nowhere to run.

Someone's been in his apartment, and he knows exactly who it was.

The realization hits him like a truck.

He sinks down, falls to the ground, curls up in a ball, barely holding himself together, and he can't even cry, he's just cold and numb and God, he's so scared.

His phone buzzes.

Tyler.

He's crawling, whimpering and sobbing and choking and he reaches his phone, his life saver, and he opens Tyler's text, but he can't read through the tears, and he pushes random letters and -- 

Through the curtain of his hazed mind he recognizes the phone call screen, and he picks up.

"Josh, what is going on? Talk to me. Josh, are you okay?"

Tyler's voice is scratchy, coarse, different than when he sings, and Josh can't speak, only cry.

"Shh, shh, Josh, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here for you. Just listen to my voice. Focus on me. We're going to breathe together, okay?"

Tyler hesitates for a second, unsure if Josh will reply, then continues to talk when he doesn't get an answer.

"Okay, focus on my voice and my breathing. Breathe with me. Slowly. One. - Two. - Three. Good. You're doing so good, Josh, stay with me. – Four. - Five. - Six. Good. Deep breaths. You will be alright. You're safe, I'm here."

Slowly, Josh's breathing calms, and even though he's still shaking and sobbing, he can feel his body lose some of its tension, each muscle strained and desperately aching for relaxation. 

Tyler's voice carries him away, and after what feels like hours, his body slowly uncurls, and he's gasping for air, finally able to breathe freely again.

"I – I think he was here", Josh whimpers, and his chest feels tight, as if someone is trying to squeeze all his organs into his head.

"He was in your apartment?!"

Tyler sounds seriously distressed, and Josh sobs.

"Y – Yeah. He – he moved my stuff. The light – in, in the bathroom was on, and – Tyler, I -"

He can't continue speaking, the air being strangled out of him again by invisible hands, invisible hands searching through his belongings, puzzling him apart, tearing him apart by the seams until his body is ripped open, and he is spilling everywhere on the floor, devoid of all emotion, just disgusting soil seeping into every corner of his flat. 

It feels like dying, just without the relief.

"Josh, stay with me. Josh? Josh, he's not there now, you're safe with me, just stay w – Josh, breathe. Slow. One, two, three. Breathe, please? .. Josh?!"

Tyler sounds muffled, and Josh withers away until he's nothing but a ghost.

"Now, the night is coming to an end, – oh, the sun will rise, and we will try again – oh, stay alive, stay alive, for me..."

The voice is soft and warm and bright, embracing him. It's strong and fearless and bold and Josh chokes out a sob.

"Stay alive, stay alive, for me -"

The song crashes through the fear, fights off the dark, wields a sword that scares the void away, and all his senses are focused on the melody filling his empty bones.

He never would've thought a song could be this powerful. Maybe it's the words, maybe it's Tyler, maybe it's his desperate mind holding onto any straw it can find to pull itself back to sanity. 

Maybe it's Tyler.

He's not safe, but he's safer, and Tyler keeps humming, murmuring safety and shelter and warmth into his broken heart, and he's crawling again, phone pressed to his ear, tears burning hot on his cheeks, and he curls up on the couch, sobs shaking his body, but Tyler is there and he will be okay.

Maybe not today, but he will be okay.

 

He can't tell how long it's been, how long they've stayed on the phone in silence, just breathing together, synched and connected through nothing but a phone line, but Josh is exhausted and tired and he has trouble staying awake.

"Tyler?"

His voice is a pitiful coarse whisper, but Tyler hears him.

"I'm here, Josh."

"I don't know what to do anymore."

It's a simple sentence, but it holds so much desperation that he could as well be tearing his heart out of his chest to crush it on the ground.

It's the truth, and it hurts.

"Do you think it will ever get better?"

He's whispering, voice tiny and flat, hopeless.

"I know it will get better, Josh. You're stronger than you think you are."

Josh has trouble believing that.

"But how can you know?"

Tyler hesitates, and when he speaks, he sounds different.

"We all deal with trauma differently. For some it takes longer to move on, others are more resilient and find coping mechanisms faster. But we all find a way, eventually."

It's a textbook answer again, and Josh grunts.

"That's easy to say."

He sounds bitter, and he hates it.

Tyler sighs softly, it's not an annoyed sigh, it's a broken one.

"I know. It sounds so stupid, and I hated to hear it when I was -"

Tyler becomes silent, and Josh is holding his breath.

"When I wasn't doing so good."

Josh feels like that is probably the understatement of the century, but he knows better than to push further.

"I guess it's hard to see right now, but there's always hope. Don't let your own mind tell you otherwise."

Tyler's voice is back to his usual sincerity, and Josh feels his body relax – he hadn't been aware of his muscles becoming tense before.

"Okay."

"Okay."

They fall silent again for a few moments, both of them lost in thought.

"I should call the locksmith", Josh suddenly says, the anxiety lingering in the back of his subconsciousness pushing closer towards the surface again.

"You should, yes, definitely", Tyler agrees with an urgent voice. "Call me when you've done that. Or, uh, text me. Whatever you prefer."

"Can we – is it okay if we chat while I do that? I – I don't think I can be alone just yet."

Josh realizes how ridiculous it sounds, because he's alone either way – Tyler is thousands of miles away, but still, the thought of having a sort of connection even if just through the internet is oddly comforting.

"Of course."

They exchange their Skype usernames, and Josh immediately adds Tyler.

"Okay. I've accepted you, we can talk through Skype now."

"Thank you."

It's only two words, but Josh knows that Tyler knows that they hold Josh's heart in them.


	10. settle down.

He spends the rest of the day relatively calm, even though the call to the locksmith makes his blood boil with anxiety. Tyler keeps messaging him on Skype, talking him through it, and Josh is as proud as they come when he finally hangs up.

 

_locksmiths gonna be here in half an hour_

 

**That's good. I'm really proud of you, Josh. You're doing so well.**

 

_thank you_

_and thank you for doing this with me_

 

**Anything for you, Joshie.**

**Maybe we can do a video call one day, what do you think?**

 

Josh hesitates, eyes scanning down his own body – he looks roughed up, clothes sweaty and clammy from his breakdown, and there's a coffee stain on his shirt he hasn't noticed before.

 

_yeah one day maybe_

_not today though_

 

**Yes, I figured. I wouldn't want to put you through anymore stress. Honestly - You've had enough of that for a lifetime.**

 

Josh's thoughts start drifting, and he lets them go where they want for a moment.

He would've never dared to hope for meeting someone like Tyler in a time like this – where he was a wreck, a mess at best, and still, Tyler didn't abandon him. He can't quite put a name to how he feels about that yet, and it makes him both uncomfortable and excited.

The doorbell tears Josh out of his trance-like state, and he is startled out of the couch. His heart betrays him – even though he knows it's just the locksmith, his body revolts against the idea of having to speak to anyone in his state. 

He feels heavy as a rock as he drags himself to the door, and the pitiful gaze he is met with assures Josh of just how fucked up he must look.

„I'm here to change the lock.“

„Yeah. It's, uh, this door here. Um, anything – anything else you need to know?“

„No, I'm good. I'll let you know when I'm done.“

 

The sun seeps through his curtains, and the air seems thick as a blanket. 

He can hear the locksmith work, and Josh lets Tyler know that he's arrived quickly, getting a thumbs up emoji in return. He figures Tyler is busy with other things – he can't ask him to be at his immediate disposal all the time, and he feels selfish for expecting it in the first place.

He expected so much, and barely gave anything in return.

The locksmith interrupts his spiraling thoughts.

„That'll be $68, please.“

Josh suddenly remembers that he probably doesn't have any money on him, and goes crimson red.

„Oh, I – umm, give me a minute.“

He scrambles through his purse, and thankfully, there's still the hundred dollar bill his mother gave to him for his birthday.

He figures that changing a lock to feel safe again is as good as a present to himself as it gets, and that his mum probably wouldn't mind if he used the money for that.

The locksmith leaves, Josh is alone again, and he feels safer, calmer, the simple knowledge of Kieran not being able to get his hands on him here anymore causing him to visibly relax.

He flops back on the couch, and Tyler's icon has changed from online to 'don't interrupt'.

Josh tries to tell himself that, again, he can't expect Tyler to be around all the time, but he still can't deny he somehow misses the idea of him being omnipresent at all times.

His phone buzzes, and without second thought, Josh picks up.

„Hello?“

„Hey, it's Katie.“

He doesn't know who he expected, but a wide smile spreads on his lips, and he exhales sharply with relief.

„Heeey, Katie! What's up?“

„Nothing much. I just finished my shift and wondered if you'd want to get coffee? You looked a bit lost when you left the hospital earlier, so I thought maybe some company wouldn't be too bad.“

Josh considers the idea, and to his own surprise, he likes it very much.

„Sure thing. I'm going to need to shower first, but I can meet you in an hour?“

They choose a smaller coffee place not far from Josh's apartment, and Katie happily agrees to come meet Josh right in front of his house. She's considerate enough to not ask for reasons.

 

It's been ages since Josh has been out with anyone besides Kieran and Jess, and the thought is scary – he's never realized just how lonely and withdrawn he's been for most of his recent life, the sudden awareness feeling like a punch to the guts.

He gets ready quickly, the shower not as cleansing as it used to be, just the thought of Kieran having been here, intruding without his knowledge... It sends shivers down his spine, and he gets out of the shower as quickly as he can, not bothering to even dry off, he just needs to be out of the room.

The shirt is still sticky with the water on his skin as he waits inside of the hallway of the house. He hopes Katie doesn't mind him looking a bit messed up, hair damp and clothes thrown on carelessly, but he can't be bothered with doing much more – not after today.

Katie is her apparently quite usual bright self, smiling and giggling and linking their arms as they walk down the street towards the café. She's excitedly telling Josh about her day, and weirdly enough, it feels as if he's known her for far longer than he actually does.

As they finally sit down with their steaming hot coffee in a quiet corner of the café, he voices that thought, and Katie beams.

„Right? I felt the same! Who knows, maybe we met in a former life!“

Josh doubts that such thing exists, but Katie's smile is contagious and he joins her with a chuckle.

„Yeah, or we're long lost siblings. One can never know these days!“

Katie laughs along, and their conversation flows freely and unforced, and Josh kind of wishes for the day to never end. What a curious change of events that is, and he can't say that he dislikes it even the tiniest bit.

His phone buzzes, and he absentmindedly fishes it out of his pocket while taking a sip from his coffee.

There's a text from Tyler.

 

**Sorry, had to go for an emergency meetup with some other Trevor people. Hope you're doing okay.**

 

Josh can't help the tiny smile, and Katie notices, cocking an eyebrow, smirking.

„Ooh, what is it that you're smiling at?“

He squirms, shifts in his seat, blushes. Katie picks up on it immediately.

„You have a crush!“, she blurts, eyes glistening with pride upon her finding, and she pokes her index finger on Josh's nose. „Gosh, you're so cute! All flustered and in love.“

He should probably be annoyed by her intrusive behaviour, but – he isn't. It feels weird.

„It's nothing“, he mumbles, „I'm not in love.“ He's defensive, but the smile is still plastered on his face, and Katie keeps picking his brains until he finally sighs and spills the beans.

„So I kinda met this guy“, eyes shooting up to meet Katie's, slightly afraid of being judged, but he fails to find any sign of distress or even surprise in her face, just genuine curiosity and interest in what he has to say. 

„Anyways, he, uh, he kinda lives very far away, and we only ever text or talk on the phone or chat, so, I can't even be in love with him, you know? I barely know him.“

Katie shakes her head, she looks determined.

„I've seen people with crushes, you all have this strange look in your eyes when you speak about them. Admiration, maybe, warmth, definitely. But! I'm not here to tell you how you feel. You'll figure it out yourself.“

Josh nods, but he isn't convinced. It can't be, he thinks, he can't really like Tyler that way. The thought is scary, and it makes his heart race.

„So, what is he like?“

Josh's face lights up. He's never had the chance to talk about Tyler, so he jumps at the opportunity.

„He honestly saved my life. He's like – he's compassionate and smart and kind and gentle and he always has the right words, you know? Always knows what to say to make me feel better. And, gosh, he's so talented! You know, raw and pure talent. He plays the piano, and the bass, and the drums a little bit too, oh! And he writes, he writes the most amazing lyrics, and he sings, and his voice is like – it's like rain on a hot summer night and fresh sheets on your bed and fireflies and sunrises and – gosh, I'm gonna have to show you his album sometime. You'll love it.“

He realizes he's been going on about Tyler for a good while now, and he shrinks into his seat, suddenly embarrassed upon his outburst. It's probably the most he's spoken since -- since then.

Maybe Katie is right, maybe he did have a slight crush on Tyler. But how could he not? He's been his only silver lining on the pitch black horizon for a few weeks now, and he could never thank him enough for saving his life – not only once, but every single time he managed to paint a smile on Josh's face with kind words that were needed like the air to breathe.

The realization is slow, but it sets his mind on fire with affection – affection for a guy he's never met in his whole life.


	11. all i see.

The noise of his new key turning in the new lock is probably the most comforting sound Josh has heard in weeks.

His home is still his home, even though it's changed – it's not his sanctuary anymore, but it's still a safer place than the great wide open, and the orange flicker of a skype notification greets him with a sense of security.

 **Hey Josh, are you there?**

 

_hey tyler_

_im here now_

_i went out for coffee with katie_

 

 **Katie?**

 

_yeah she was my nurse at the hospital_

_shes really nice, i like her_

 

 **That's great! I'm glad to hear you got to end the afternoon on a lighter note.**

 

_yes me too_

 

Josh is nibbling on a tiny scrape close to his index fingers' nail. He wants to bring up his realization from earlier that day, but he isn't sure how to go about it. What he surely knows though is that the unsettling uncertainty of not knowing if Tyler maybe felt the same would probably drive him insane. 

 

 **What did you two talk about?**

 

Perfect, Josh thinks, and even though his heart is jumping with a crazy mixture of anxiety and excitement, he just goes for it.

 

_you actually_

 

 **Me? Just good things, I hope. :D**

 

He's never seen Tyler use an emoji before, and he can't shake the idea that maybe he's nervous too. Which would be a good sign – right?

 

_just good things ty_

_you sent me a text and i smiled at my phone like an idiot haha_

 

 **I do the same when you text me, to be honest.**

 

Another good sign, Josh beams, and he's smiling like an idiot again. „Talk about deja vu,“ he giggles into his empty living room.

 

_thats kinda cool to know_

_well she saw me smiling and asked who i was texting and i told her about you_

_how you saved my life and everything_

 

It's typed into the chat window with ease, even though it's a big confession – Josh doesn't feel embarrassed talking about it, he feels proud. His own personal guardian angel, he thinks.

His fingers type faster than his brain thinks at this point, and he doesn't give Tyler time to reply.

 

_and how i really really like you and how its really frustrating that you live so far away_

_because i really wanna hug you and say thank you in person and tell you how much you mean to me and how i never imagined to meet someone like you when i was at my lowest... am at my lowest actually but you know with you i see hope again youre like a candle when theres no light anywhere and youre really bright to me and that helps a lot, knowing that youre here when i need you and_

_i dont want this to come off as if youre just some temporary fix for me to get over my issues you know? i really hope we can make this last because youre so important to me and i wouldnt want to miss you in my life again_

 

Tyler isn't replying, Josh figures that he's still reading. He hopes that Tyler understands.

 

_so i know it probably sounds weird as fuck and stuff but you know i really hope you get what im trying to say_

_im not good with words_

_but i really like you and idk what it is just yet but i might be falling for you and i know its stupid and lame and i probably shouldnt let it happen because its fucked up but i cant really stop it_

 

Josh let's out a sharp breath he hadn't realized he was holding and hits enter, and the message is sent and there's no turning back now anymore.

The little typing sign pops up in the corner of the chat window, and he anxiously awaits Tyler's reply.

Tyler takes his time, and Josh is getting more and more nervous by the second. 

He needs to busy his fingers, his mind, his whole body, starts tidying up his apartment. Moves stuff from here to there without purpose, walks to the fridge, opens it, gazes inside. Closes it again. Repeat. Get a can of Red Bull. (Because obviously energy drinks are perfect for racing hearts and sweaty palms and red hot cheeks.)

Finally, the familiar sound of a new message drills into his ears. His heart tries to punch through his ribcage, Josh gasps, races to the couch, eyes glued to the screen.

 

**Josh –**

**I'm really happy you bring this up, because I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while now.**

Josh's heart drops. That doesn't sound too promising, but he keeps reading. 

**You've had a tough going lately. I still remember your first text like it was just yesterday, -- when I know it's been weeks. I remember our first chat on Trevor, I remember every single confession and every single silly joke, even though those were rare – you needed time, but you're on the right way. And that is the most mesmerizing, amazing thing to witness for me – to see you grow, even if it's small changes. You still have a long way to go, and I intend on being by your side for however long you want to have me.**

**I never intended this to happen. This isn't what I had planned, but I feel like I know you better than the back of my hand, better than my brothers, better than – you're my best friend, and it sounds silly, crazy maybe, to talk about our friendship like this when we never even met. But I'm a firm believer in 'Everything happens for a reason', and here you are, so kind, so compassionate and strong, yet soft and afraid and that's okay, too. I didn't want to push you, didn't want to be the one to initiate this conversation because I felt like it wouldn't be right – it wouldn't be right to put something like that on you when you've been struggling and fighting and clawing your way back to the surface, so I reached out when you needed me to, but**

 

The message stops, and Josh's heart is singing with glee. The words are like bandages on his bruised soul, warm, healing, sheltering him from the dangers lurking outside, and he sees Tyler is still typing. 

He likes me too, he thinks, and he feels like bursting into sunshine and summer wind and star dust.

 

 **I never even dared to hope for you to feel the same way that I felt. I've never met anyone like you, and I would be a damn idiot to let you go. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. You captivate me in ways I've never known, Josh. And if this is what you want – us, I mean, even if it's complicated and messy and strange and most people probably won't understand – then I'm ready to take your hand and go wherever you want us to go. Just say the word, Josh, and we can go where life takes us.**

 

It's poetry, it's honest and beautiful and Josh sobs, hand pressed to his chest as he feels his heart dissipate into sheer happiness.

He selects the call option, and the ringing sound doesn't make him feel anxious at all. He needs to see Tyler's face, wants to hold his hand, bury his face in Tyler's neck and cry and sob and mourn all the time wasted with the wrong people at the wrong places when he could've been spending them with Tyler by his side. 

Tyler picks up, and he looks different than what Josh has expected but he's beautiful, kind eyes, wide smile, crooked teeth, soft, brown hair and a face that radiates safety and shelter and Josh is smiling like an idiot again.

„Hi“, he gasps, breathless, fingertips reaching out to touch Tyler's face on the screen.

„Hi“, Tyler smiles, and for the first time, Josh sees his lips move and his eyes blink and his chest slightly move with every drawn in breath and hears his voice echo through the speakers and God, Josh thinks he might be in love.


	12. oblivion.

They talk for hours.

Josh is flopped down on the couch, legs up on the seating, back against the armrest, the laptop propped up on his stomach.

Tyler is at home, too, in a loose white vest and on his couch, a huge cushion in his back, and they talk and talk and talk.

It feels like everything is reversed – he knows Tyler, knows who he is, but the details, the framing that most people get to know first -- that's still missing, and Josh is eager to puzzle together what he doesn't know of Tyler yet.

Josh learns that Tyler lives in Columbus, Ohio. He's 28, he has two brothers and a sister. He's a librarian (Josh already knew that, but he soaks up every info he gets anyways. He needs more, so much more), he drives an old pick up truck and when he isn't playing music or writing, he does church-based youth work or helps with Trevor. 

He has tattoos, but he covers them with clothes most of the time because they're not allowed at his working place. 

He has a small, cramped apartment just ten minutes from his parents' house because he wants to be close to them, and he shows Josh his place, carries his laptop through the flat – a small kitchen, a cozy bedroom, a tiny home studio next to his piano in the living room – they stop their conversation there, because Josh begs Tyler to play him some songs and Tyler finds he can't say no to Josh's pout.

 

The last notes of a yet to be named piano song fade out, and Josh can feel the exhaustion of the day catch up with him rapidly. His eyes feel heavy and dry, and he barely manages to stay awake under his blanket on the couch. 

„I feel like I've picked your brains for long enough“, he mutters, nuzzling into the blanket, yawning.

It's two in the morning.

Tyler nods.

„You need to get some sleep, Josh. It must be late for you.“

„Yeah, but I have another sick day tomorrow, I can sleep in, so that's alright.“

„That's good. But I don't, unfortunately, I have to be up and awake at 6am, and it's a long day ahead. There's a youth church meeting tomorrow that I have to attend after work, and then I'm on schedule for the Trevor chat. But I'll check in with you, okay?“

Josh doesn't like the thought of having to hang up, but he has to accept that Tyler has his life, his own responsibilities, and he tries to hide his disappointment.

Apparently he fails, because Tyler reaches out to touch the screen, hand out of view, but his eyes look sad.

„I'm sorry, Joshie. I wish I was there with you right now.“

„Me too“, Josh admits with a small voice, and he pulls the blanket closer around him. „We could cuddle.“

„I'd like that very much.“

They fall silent for a few moments, both of them just staring at each other's faces on the screen, unwilling to end their fragile connection through the internet.

„I have an idea“, Tyler says suddenly, and Josh is all ears.

 

Ten minutes later, he's in bed, sweatpants on, shirtless, head rested on his pillow, face only illuminated by the laptop that's sitting on the other side of the bed.

Miles and miles from Josh, Tyler is lying on the other side of the bed, his own laptop with him, eyes locked with Josh's through the video call.

„Good night“, he whispers, and Josh smiles.

„Good night“, Josh replies, and he dozes of to the calming sound of Tyler singing him to sleep. 

 

Josh awakes with a start. He can't move, his blankets are too heavy.

The darkness is allconsuming, seeping into his bones and tainting every cell in his body with pitch-black fear.

He can't move.

His muscles are restrained, as if he's glued to the sheets, and his own breath is so loud, so loud in the mind-numbing silence, it's like cannonballs in his mind, every breath harder and more shallow, he's suffocating, drowning in the quiet that's just too loud to ignore.

Tyler is there, leaning against the doorframe, and his eyes are glistening, and he smiles, cold, smiles as if Josh is prey and Tyler has him caged and locked and ready to be eaten alive.

Josh whines, and he still can't move, and the whimper is muffled and broken and breathless, and he's scared out of his mind.

There's music, a familiar baseline, the rhythm of his pulse ringing in his ears, and he's back in the club, eyes flying from left to right with panic, his heart is in his throat, strangling him, cold tiles against his back.

His legs give out beneath him, his body slumps forward and against ~~Tyler~~ Kieran and there's a hand where it shouldn't be and tears are burning hot in his eyes, and he wants to scream but he can't, and –

With a yell, Josh lunges forward in his bed, eyes wide and panic boiling in his blood, and the bedsheets stick to him, damp with sweat, his breath is heavy and hitched and the darkness of the room is scary, everything looks so strange, and his clammy hands find the lightswitch and thank God, warm safety floods the room and scares away the shadows grasping at him.

The room is empty.

He's alone, he's safe, there is no need to be afraid, he repeats for himself, trying to calm his wild heart beating out of his chest.

The nightmares have been less frequent lately, but they still come.

Tyler had never been in them, and Josh wonders what that means, what his subconscious is trying to tell him, but he doesn't dare recall the dream just yet, the fear still lingering too close to the surface.

It's only 5 in the morning, he's barely slept three hours, and the laptop on the other side of the bed has died down, out of battery.

He reaches for his phone. 

Tyler is probably asleep, but Josh texts him anyways. He needs the reassurance for himself.

_i had a really bad dream_

_we need to talk tomorrow there are things i need to tell you tyler_

_text me when you can okay?_

Josh's fingers linger just above the screen, then he starts typing again.

_i miss you_

 

Josh decides it's no use going back to sleep now, his body still shaking with the dream that has felt all too real, so he gets up and starts making breakfast.

He forces down a bowl of cereal while watching the sunrise, and he feels numb.

The day withers away beneath his fingers, there isn't much to do, and Tyler still hasn't texted him back.

Around noon, he hears his phone buzz, but it's not a text – it's a call, and Josh can feel his heart pick up again. It can't be Tyler, he wouldn't call. 

He recognizes his primary care physician's number and picks up with clammy hands.

„Josh Dun.“

„Hello Mr. Dun, it's Lydia Miles, Dr. Marcus' office. I'm calling because we received the reports from your recent hospital stay, and Dr. Trevor from Mercy West has specifically recommended a follow up appointment to discuss some options for future treatment. I wanted to know if you would be alright with coming in today? Someone else cancelled their appointment, you could have it instead.“

Josh is momentarily confused by the huge amount of info, his brain struggling to work fast enough, and he's frustrated and angry with himself.

„Uh – yes.“

What an eloquent answer, Josh scolds himself, but the receptionist doesn't seem to mind his taciturnity.

„Alright, great. Please come in 3:15 this afternoon?“

„Okay. … Thank you“, he adds, unsure of what he's thanking her for.

„You're welcome. I'll see you this afternoon. Goodbye!“

She's hung up before Josh can reply, and he throws the phone onto the couch carelessly. 

His heart starts to calm down now that the call has ended, and Josh is back to brooding over the fact that there still isn't a sign of life from Tyler.

He's just busy, Josh thinks. He's just busy, he repeats. He's just busy, he prays, and he's already stopped believing it.

 

3 o'clock comes rolling in, his phone is silent, and Josh is on the brink of breaking down.

He grabs his wallet, keys and phone with shaky hands – he's irritated and nervous, best conditions for a talk about his anxiety. At least he hasn't lost his sarcasm, Josh notices bitterly.

The doctors' office is only five minutes from his apartment, but it feels like his feet weigh a hundred pounds each, and he drags himself towards his destination. When he arrives, he's out of breath and sweaty, and he desperately longs for a shower.

The clock in the waiting room ticks too loudly, in synch with his racing heart, the slip of paper he had to fill out for the Doctor is already floppy and disgusting in his hands.

„Mr. Dun“, the receptionist calls, and Josh gets up with wobbly legs, almost trips, then misses the right door and barges into the wrong exam room, and he's sure that if he doesn't get to sit down as soon as possible he'll probably pass out from all the blood that's gathered in his cheeks.

He's caught in a real life nightmare, and if the ground just opened and swallowed him whole he would have no objections.

Finally, his hand finds the right doorhandle, and he stumbles into the room, throws the door close, comes to a halt with his back against it.

He really wants to sleep.

„Mr. Dun – Joshua, are you okay?“

Dr. Marcus voice is raspy with worry, and he carefully reaches out and offers Josh a hand, and Josh takes it gladly, lets the older man guide him to one of the plushy chairs, takes the offered water, gulps it down in one go, chokes.

The Doctor doesn't say anything, patiently waits for Josh to regain his sanity, and finally, Josh blinks – once, twice, takes a deep breath, puffs his cheeks, exhales. He's breathing. He's okay. Will be okay. 

This is just in your head.

„Joshua, I'm glad you could make it today. I understand that this is hard for you, and that you could probably list a hundred places you'd rather be right now, but it's important that we check your options for treatment.“

Eyes behind half-moon shaped glasses fly over a paper, probably the letter from the hospital.

„It says here that you struggle with severe anxiety, which has caused you to lose consciousness at your work place. Is that correct?“

Josh nods.

Dr. Marcus writes something down.

„Okay. First of all, I have to ask this before we go on – please don't take this as an offense, it's just protocol. Are you currently using any drugs, prescribed or unprescribed?“

Josh shakes his head.

Dr. Marcus writes something down.

„Good, that's good. So, Joshua, do you want help?“

The question catches Josh off guard.

Does he want help?

What a stupid fucking question, he thinks, of course he wants help.

Or does he?

„I don't know.“

„Okay. Would it help your decision if I talked you through possible ways of treatment?“

Josh nods.

Dr. Marcus writes something down.

Then he leans back, clicks his pen closed, takes off his glasses.

Josh stiffens.

„There are different ways of dealing with anxiety. There is medication, there is behavioral therapy, inpatient and outpatient. Any of that sound good to you?“

Josh shrugs.

„Medication is mainly used to help with the immediate symptoms. Sweaty hands, your heart racing, your mind going in circles – medication can help put a stop to that.“

That does sound good, Josh thinks, but he stays silent.

Dr. Marcus continues.

„What I'd personally suggest is a combination of both therapy and medication, which is known to bring the best results. In therapy, you'll learn different skills to cope with your anxiety, to find other mechanisms and ways to handle anxiety-inducing situations. There would also be time to tackle other issues you might possibly have.“

Eyebrows scoot up, Josh shrinks under his gaze. 

Other issues you might poissibly have.

He's scared that somehow, Dr. Marcus knows. He knows what Josh has done, knows what has happened, knows every dirty secret crawling in his filthy body, and he wants to disappear, shrink into the plush chair and never talk again. 

It's his fault. He let Kieran do that to him.

It's my fault.

Doctor Marcus keeps talking, but Josh isn't there anymore, he's hollow and empty and a ghost and nobody notices, because he's invisible. Invisible and small and so fucking dirty.

He feels the urge to wash his hands, wash them, scrub them, tear his skin off, tear all this dirt off and claw and claw until his blood is clean again with soap and water and all the mud and soil is washed out of his system and then just disappear until he's nothing but clean, white noise.

He's on auto-pilot, takes the receipt Dr. Marcus hands him, shakes his hand, endures the hand patting his shoulder soothingly, leaves the office, goes home. Showers.

Showers, showers, showers.

His skin is red and hurts, stings, and he keeps scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing until he can see blood, and his phone buzzes with incoming texts, and he just keeps scrubbing.

He's so dirty, he'll never be clean again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry ok


	13. i try.

The bedsheets are crumbled and sweaty, the night is heavy and thick and Josh is tossing and turning, but sleep won't come.

He had left the shower after what felt like hours, skin red hot and burning, countless scratches on his thighs and abdomen, and he tends to his wounds with a numb mind. He can't think about what he's done to himself, not now, possibly not ever.

The bandages aren't helping, they just worsen the burning, but he crawls into bed anyways, the sheets rough and painful against his abused skin.

The night withers away slowly, minutes ticking by, and even though he's too exhausted to think, he reaches for his phone, scrolls through endless messages and missed calls from Tyler, but he can't talk now. He can't will his fingers to type, can't bring his mind to form coherent sentences.

Can't tell Tyler what he's done.

As sleep overwhelms him early in the morning, it brings no rest, only more nightmares.

His alarm goes off only two hours later, and Josh is practically standing in bed, eyes shifting with panic, and he doesn't know where he is for a moment – but then the pain comes back, his skin screaming with the restraint of being stretched, and he sinks down, tears stinging in his eyes.

What a mess he is, what a mess he has become, always has been. He's not sure anymore when exactly he's broken himself in half, but it doesn't matter anymore.

Tired feet carry him through his flat, lifeless hands dress a body that isn't his, numb movements feed him breakfast, and he's out of his apartment and on his way to work.

 

When he arrives back home, he can't remember a single thing that has happened today. 

His phone, left forgotten and buried under dirty sheets – it's ringing, and Josh picks up without a thought. He can't even feel anxious anymore, he's just numb, and the fabric of his jeans shifting against his thighs and setting his skin on fire is the only sensation that breathes life back into him.

„Josh Dun.“

„Josh! Oh, thank God, I'm – I'm so glad you picked up!“

„Yeah.“

Tyler is taken aback by his hollow reply, and it feels as if his voice stiffens through the line, tinted with worry.

„Josh, what happened?“

„Nothing,“ Josh snaps.

For a moment, Tyler is still, and Josh breathes sharply, shakes his head. 

„I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be harsh.“

He says what he thinks Tyler wants him to say.

„It's okay, Josh.“

He knows it's not okay.

„You wanted to talk to me? That's what you said in your last text.“

Josh hardly remembers what he's had for breakfast today, much less what he texted Tyler.

„I did?“

„Yes. We don't have to do this right now if you're, uh, busy.“

„No, it's okay. What did I say? I'm sorry, I had a long day. Work.“

His voice is still empty, and Tyler probably knows he's lying.

Fingers are rubbing on his thighs, and he flinches with the pain that travels through his veins. 

„You said there were things you wanted to talk to me about. That you had a bad dream.“

The memory is glazed and blurry as if seen through heavy fog, but Josh thinks he remembers now. He had wanted to tell Tyler everything, spit every last detail of what had happened in that restroom into his face, get it off his chest, share it, finally, share the pain, but that seems useless right now. What good could it bring?

It's all his own fault, anyways, and if Tyler finds out, he'll leave him, and then he's on his own again and he's selfish enough to not want that happening.

„Sorry, I don't know what that was about. Must've been half-asleep, it's nothing. Sorry that I worried you.“

He can hear Tyler give up, and he hopes it's only temporary.

Don't give up on me yet.

„That's okay, Josh. Maybe you'll remember later. … How was work?“

The change of topic makes Josh breathe with relief, and he flops onto the couch, whines quietly upon the sting of his skin.

„Good, I guess. For the first day after, you know.“

„Yeah.“

It's awkward, and momentarily, Josh whises Tyler would just scream at him, tell him to fucking talk, tell him to be honest, tell him he sees right through the lies. But that wouldn't be very Tyler, so Josh keeps lying.

„My boss was very understanding, and she didn't mention it much, so I just focused on what I needed to get done and that's about it.“

He still doesn't remember anything from work, but he thinks that sounds liek something his boss would do.

„I'm glad you had a good day, then.“

„How was yours?“

Tyler gets caught up in a minutes long rant about his work, how everything was really unorganized at the moment and how that exhausted him, and Josh's thoughts drift away.

He really should talk to Tyler. He knows he should. 

Fingernails dig into his palms, force him to snap back to reality, focus on Tyler. Focus.

„Tyler?“

He interrupts the stream of breathy complaints, and Tyler falls silent.

„I think I remembered what I wanted to talk about.“

„Oh.“

He needs to do this. Talk. Just tell him. He will understand.

His rational mind is pleading him, and even though his body revolts and he feels like throwing up, he claws through it. 

Starts talking. Spills over like a bucket filled to the brink, all the dirt and mud and bottled up fear flooding into the empty living room.

No detail is left out, and his mouth is running on its own now, he can't stop it anymore, and by the end of it all, he's empty and flat and empty and dead.

„I'm so sorry this happened to you, Josh.“

It's a worn out sentence, but Tyler's voice is rough and warm and honey stirred into tea and Josh sobs. He hasn't noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks until now, washing out the remains of his dirty, ugly secret.

It's relieving, he notes, to not be alone anymore.

„Noone should ever have to go through the pain and torture you have to go through, and I want you to know that I am endlessly proud of you for telling me.“

Josh nods shakily into his hands, bites on his fingernails. He feels better, but he doesn't feel good. 

He's far from it. Still so numb.

One hand is clawing at his legs again, the pain blooming in his skin pulling him back to reality.

„I'm glad I told you.“

He's not sure if he's lying or if he's honest. It all feels the same.

„I am too.“

They fall silent again, nothing but shuddering breaths and Josh's quiet sobs, and Josh briefly wonders what Tyler is doing, if he's sitting on his couch too, if he feels empty too, or if that's just him. Maybe it doesn't affect Tyler that much; he seems awfully calm.

„You don't seem too bothered.“

The words escape Josh before he can stop them, and he wishes he could suck them right back up into his mouth and never even think them again.

„Josh – I don't – I can't allow myself to get angry, not like... No, wait, let me finish. I am angry, I'm fucking angry and mad and if I could get my hands on the guy...“ Tyler silences himself, and Josh can almost see him shaking his head with frustration, a hand carding through his hair. 

„But if I let that take over – that wouldn't help you. At all. And it wouldn't change anything. So I focus on you instead, of doing what you need me to do, because that's far more important than me seeking revenge or something like that.“

The words make sense, but Josh still feels weird.

„Don't you ever get the urge to.. to hurt people? When you hear stories like... like mine. Doesn't that drive you insane?“

He's desperately trying to understand Tyler, trying to make sense of his approach. He's not sure he could do it if their places were swapped. He'd probably want to rip apart whoever dared to hurt Tyler.

„It's hard. And sometimes it hits very close to home, and I – I do get that urge, yes. But it's not what I'm here to do, Josh. It's not my place to get angry when I'm working with a victim of abuse.“

„So I'm just a job?“

„Don't get angry now, Josh. You know you're not just a job. You're – you're my best friend. And I mean it when I say that.“

Josh knows he's being irrational. Tyler isn't like other people, he reasons with himself. Tyler likes him. Really, honestly likes him. He knows he should believe that by now, but sometimes it's still hard to do so.

„Okay.“

Another silence fills the room, Josh playing with the hem of his shirt, shifting on the couch, his skin is still stinging.

„Is it okay if I change the topic?“

Josh is glad for Tyler's suggestion and nods. Talking is exhausting, but he doesn't want to hang up just yet. 

„Hm-mh.“

„There's a Trevor conference next week, and I was asked to go. It's in LA.“

Josh gets keen-eared.

„Wait, so – you'd be here?“

„Yeah.“

His heart starts racing immediately. 

He might meet Tyler. Actually, properly meet him, in person. Face to face. He feels like jumping out of his skin, all the pain forgotten for now.

„Oh my god.“

„So, uh, would you like to m-“

„Yes! God, yes, please. Please.“

Tyler laughs, a throaty, warm chuckle that makes Josh's bones crack and his lungs explode with affection. There's not enough room in his body to contain what he feels.

„Okay, that's good to hear. I was hoping you'd... You know. Want to meet me.“

Meet Tyler. The simple possibility is making him dizzy.

„You can stay at my place.“

„I'd love that.“

There isn't much left to say, both of them smiling into their cell phones, and even though Tyler is still far, far away, it feels as if he's right there, right next to Josh, and the warmth radiating through his skin soothes the aching pain of the scratches.


	14. heart by heart.

It feels like suddenly, the world has sped up, has decided that it was time for them to meet. Whole days run through his fingers like sand through a loosely curled fist, and before his brain has time to catch up with it, the day of Tyler's arrival comes crashing into his apartment with bright sunlight and sharp early autumn wind.

They have skyped every night since Tyler told him about the conference, and he is glad they had the time to get used to talking to each other like that. He feels almost none of the usual anxiety symptoms anymore, though that only extends to talking with Tyler. Phone calls generally are still scary for him, and Katie has made it her personal goal to call him each and every day to check up on him and help him feel more secure while being on the phone. He's not sure if it's working, but he doesn't have the heart to tell her.

The drive to the airport is awful, too much traffic and not enough distraction to keep his traitor of a mind from playing its games with him. _Maybe Tyler doesn't show up_ , this tiny voice in his brain whispers, and Josh shakes his head in agony. Stop, he thinks, stop doing that to yourself. He will be there. He will be.

 

People are rushing by, some of them bumping into him, and Josh knows he's in the way, but he can't move.

The crowded halls of the airport amplify every sound, and his muscles are tense to the point of trembling, the tight grip on his cell phone lets his knuckles go white. His breathing is shallow and hitched, but he has his eyes fixed on the exit of the gate, not daring to make a sound.

Five more minutes, the huge board hung above the exit tells him, five more minutes and then he's here. Josh feels like running, fleeing the scene, nevermind me, Tyler, I couldn't make it.

But he stays.

The clock seems slower than usual, time barely passing, and he stands like a deer in headlights.

Another person bumps into him.

And another.

Time doesn't go by.

Three more minutes.

His hands are sweaty and hot and disgusting, and he feels like showering.

Two more minutes.

There's no air, just people, people, people, rushing and talking and laughing and everything's loud and bright and he squeezes his eyes shut, covers his ears with his hands, tries to breathe. There's too many people, and Tyler still isn't here.

One minute.

He's shaking, arms now clutching around his torso as if to hold his bones together, and then his eyes lock with Tyler's and the world comes to a halt.

It's not spectacular. 

There's no sparks flying, no big gestures, no fireworks, just silence. White noise.

Tyler.

His feet carry him before he realizes what he's doing, a straight line, and now he's the one bumping into people, rushing, not a look to the left or right, and Tyler has dropped his suitcase, and his eyes are wide and warm and God, he wishes he could walk faster, but his heart is already beating out of his chest and his pulse is rushing in his ears and he almost shoves someone while trying to get through the crowd.

And then he's there, stops, stands, stares.

„Hi“, Tyler says, whispers, breathes. He's beautiful, Josh thinks.

„Hi“, Josh says, whimpers, sobs. He's beautiful, Tyler thinks.

And then there's strong arms around Josh's body, clenching around him, holding him upright, and he goes limp, sinks into the touch, crumbles, and he wants to disappear into Tyler, crawl into his body and his warmth and his beautiful mind and never be himself again.

Hands are pressing circles into Josh's back, and Tyler hums, coarse melodies and hopeful notes. It's like a weight has been lifted from Josh, a weight he didn't know had been there in the first place, and he's sure that if Tyler wasn't holding him in place, he'd slowly float away and towards the sky and never come back down again, that's how weightless he is.

Neither of them can really say how long they remained this way, Tyler's arms around Josh like a lifeline, Josh shaking and clutching to him, and they don't need words, they just stand and touch and touch and hug and smile and Josh might be crying now and God, Tyler has a really nice scent, and God, Josh has such soft hair.

Today marks three months of chatting, texting, talking, and that can't be a coincidence, Josh thinks, and he steps back, only slightly, he's quiet now, trails of salt on his cheeks, never breaking contact with Tyler. He never wants to let go again.

Tyler's hands are cupping his face, thumbs drawing over the dried trails of silent tears, and Josh is intensely aware of every movement Tyler makes, of every tiny twitch in his skin, of the small laughter lines, the soft pink shade of Tyler's lips, the sharp shadow of his jawline, the radiating heat of his eyes. If Josh was made of ice, he'd be melting now.

They are so close, it's almost scary, maybe it should be scary, but instead it's exhilarating and breath-taking and momentarily, he thinks he's lost his ability to form coherent sentences.

„Hi“, he repeats, shaking his head, realizing he's already said that.

„Hi“, Tyler repeats also, a bright smile on his lips. He doesn't mind.

„I have my mum's car with me.“ 

Josh doesn't know why he feels like that is an important information right now, but at least he knows that he's regained his voice. Tyler nods.

„Okay. Did you park outside or in the parking lot?“

Lips are curling up, pressed together, teeth worrying a bottom lip between them, and he almost breaks into hysterical laughter, and Tyler furrows his brows in confusion, his hands still on Josh's face, and the situation would be ridiculous if it wasn't for the fact that they had three months of physical contact to make up for.

„I can't believe our first real conversation is about my mum's car.“

Tyler visibly relaxes, and he pulls Josh close again, one hand on his back now and one in his neck, pressing a kiss to his forehead, smiling into the pink mess that is Josh's hair. Tyler is so close, so real, so absolutely, terrifyingly real. Josh shivers.

It's a good shiver, though.

„Let's go home“, Tyler says, and weirdly enough, that doesn't sound wrong.

 

LA traffic is catastrophic on regular days, and it's even worse on weekends. They spend more than an hour in Josh's car, talking about Tyler's flight, about the past week, about the days to come – talking is easy with Tyler, and Josh is somehow glad for the heavy traffic.

His eyes only sporadically honor the road with attention, most of the time the traffic isn't moving anyways, and Josh is glad he has time to study Tyler's face. 

Tyler isn't a man of many gestures, he talks calmly and collected, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt or the sunglasses lying in his lap. His lips look very soft, his jawline is sharp but not too edged, his nose is probably the cutest Josh has ever seen, and his eyes – God, his eyes. Whenever they lock with Josh's, he feels like gasping, warm caramel melting into golden sprinkles, dark, but not in a scary way, more the kind of darkness that makes you feel home and safe and sheltered and allows you to not think for a while, to escape. Josh thinks he could probably fall in love with Tyler's eyes alone. 

He realizes he's been absent-minded, not listening, snaps himself out of it, lets the car roll forward a bit to catch up with the one in front of them.

„I've never been to LA before“, Tyler says, shaking his head. „It's beautiful. A bit too hot, maybe.“

Josh laughs, side-eyeing Tyler as he tugs on his vest, trying to shake it a bit so the air can breeze along his probably already sweaty skin.

„You'll get used to it. Also, I have an AC at home, so it won't be as hot in my apartment. If we ever make it there, that is“, Josh sighs, eyes back on the traffic. „Next time we should just take the bus.“

„Definitely“, Tyler agrees with puffed cheeks, hand pushing his hair out of his forehead so it sticks up, already soaked. Neither of them mention the idea of a second meeting already lingering in the air.

Another thirty minutes later, Josh finally finds a spot to park in his street, pulling the car into it with practiced movements.

„There you go“, he huffs, pulling Tyler's suitcase out of the trunk and letting it come to a stand on the sidewalk with a dull thud. „Feels like you packed for a month rather than a week!“

Tyler shrugs, apologetic smile on his lips. 

„I just like to be prepared for every eventuality, I guess. Even though I realize now that the rain coat was really unnecessary.“

Josh shakes his head with disbelief, but he insists on carrying the suitcase for Tyler anyways, groaning and complaining while he climbs the stairs, and Tyler bites back a laugh. He's stubborn, so he lets Josh do what he wants to.

It doesn't feel like meeting for the first time, the way they casually talk, the way their hands brush every now and then and the way those small moments send glowing warmth through Josh's skin, how comfortable he is around Tyler. There's nothing to hide, nothing to pretend, because Tyler knows him. Every inch of his shattered soul, he's seen it, and he's still here.

The afternoon is spend with Josh showing Tyler around his small flat, ordering pizza, watching Netflix but barely paying attention, and everything feels comfortably normal. Both of them know there's more lingering under the surface, things to talk about, conversations neither of them feels quite ready to have, so they swivel around them, only scraping the surface.

It's close to midnight when Josh shifts on the couch, shuffles closer to Tyler, rests his head in his lap without thought of consequence, sighs comfortably as he feels Tyler's fingers softly carding through his hair.

It's everything he imagined and more.

„How have you been holding up, Josh?“

He doesn't quite know.

There's good days and bad days, and there's even worse days, and he struggles to put it into words.

„We don't have to talk.“

As always, Tyler understands.

They stay silent.

Then Josh talks.

„I have an appointment with a therapist on Monday.“

„That's great, Josh! How do you feel about that?“

Josh shrugs, curls up tighter against Tyler's legs. He's very warm and very soft, and Josh feels safer than he's felt eversince... eversince then.

„I'm scared. But I think it might be a good thing to do.“

If Tyler notices Josh's fingernails digging into his palms, he does a good job at hiding it.

„I wish you could come with me, but I understand that it's something I have to do alone.“

Tyler nods, let's his hand rest on Josh's shoulder, reassuring weight against his hollow bones.

He feels so hollow all the time lately, as if something's slowly, but surely scraping every last bit of who he's been before out of his body.

There are no words to properly describe the feeling, but he doesn't think he needs to explain with Tyler around. Maybe sometimes it's okay to not have words.

„Let's go to bed.“

Josh nods. 

 

They get ready for bed silently, and then they're in his bedroom, standing on each side of the bed, and Tyler is fidgeting with the hem of his shirt again.

„Is this okay? I can sleep on the couch.“

Josh shakes his head.

„Please“, he says, and it's quiet, whispered, and he hates how broken he sounds.

„Okay.“

They climb under the sheets, silent and careful and it's new, for both of them, and Josh is glued to his side of the bed, eyes staring wide into the darkness, and he can hear Tyler breathe next to him.

„Please don't let me sleep alone tonight.“ _Or ever again. ___

__Tyler is there, closer now, careful arms around Josh's waist, and Josh huddles into the safety of his chest, pulls his arms closer around him, hides from whatever lurks in the shadows._ _

__There's a heart beating calmly against his back, a breath that isn't his own in his ears, hands that aren't his own holding him together, strong but not restraining, an anchor, not chains, and for the first time in months, he doesn't feel alone._ _

__Tyler is here, and he isn't alone._ _


	15. overjoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took me so long. got stuck, but i'm back and i'm positive the next chapter will come a lot sooner.

Josh wakes with a half-start, heart jumping for a split second upon the restraint of arms around his body. Trapped, trapped, trapped, run - but his mind catches up before he can actually jerk forward and out of the embrace. It's just Tyler. It's Tyler, you're safe.

All of that has barely happened in a mere second, yet Tyler seems to have somehow picked up on it, his arms curling tighter around Josh's body, a comfortable, sleepy hum as he nuzzles his nose into Josh's neck, and Josh almost giggles because it tickles, the way his breath lets the hair in his neck stand on end. 

"Morn'n", Tyler mumbles into his skin, and the morning slowly starts to unfold to him the way it really is -- not scary, not trapped, just quiet comfort and Tyler. The sun is out, painting the walls of his bedroom with shatters of light through the raindrops still clinging to the glass of the window. Tyler's heartbeat reverberates in his own chest, and he feels overwhelmingly alive.

"Morning", he whispers into the fabric of the cushion as he buries his face in it, soft blush dusting his face, he can feel it, doesn't know why. "How did you sleep?"

"Good. Really good. You?" Tyler pulls him closer again, even though he thought that wasn't really possible anymore. He folds his own arms over Tyler's hands, wants every inch of contact he can get. 

"Good." He isn't lying.

They fall silent again, enjoying the warmth and laziness that comes with a late morning on a day where neither of them had anything planned except spending time with each other. Tyler's conference only starts tomorrow, and Josh is glad that he will have Tyler all to himself. 

They might have dozed off once or twice again before Tyler finally stretches, yawns with a heartwarmingly cute whine and presses a soft, lovely kiss to Josh's neck. They both only realize the gesture after it has happened. Josh stiffens.

"Sorry, I -"

"No, it's okay."

It didn't feel weird or wrong, it felt good, and Josh isn't sure if he's allowed to feel that way yet. 

Tyler's voice pulls him back from the edge of the darkness looming in the back of his mind again.

"Let's have breakfast."

 

He doesn't pride himself in many things, but his pancakes are one thing he feels confidently happy to brag about. His mum had told him well, and Tyler won't stop praising how fluffy they are, how sweet and perfect and Josh can't stop giggling as he watches Tyler practically shoveling through every new pancake with light speed.

"You know they don't run away if you don't eat them immediately, right?"

"Hm-mh. Not risking it though."

They enjoy the cozy domesticity for the whole morning. Multiple cups of coffee get emptied over the newspapers, Tyler tells him more about the conference, Josh talks about going back to work on Tuesday and how excited he is to finally get back into the swing of normality and a regular daily life. Three months of uncertainty could apparently do that to him, make him miss work -- which was new, but he didn't want to complain.

Of course, the fear of meeting Kieran again in the store was still eminent in his every nerve, but it was easy to forget about with Tyler giving him encouraging advice and proud nods as he rambles on about his excitement to check out all the new records that must have been coming in while he was at home.

 

They eventually decide to go on a walk. Tyler wants to see a bit of Los Angeles while he's there, and Josh happily agrees to show him around. They get ready hastily, not bothering with their appearance too much, but when Josh grabs the keys from the hook by the door he hesitates.

"I haven't really been outside since.."

Tyler understands, holds out his hand for Josh to take. 

"I'm here. And we can go home anytime if you don't feel comfortable."

Josh takes the offered hand, laces their fingers together. Warm certainty is what he would call it, the way Tyler's fingers hold him together as they make their way down the hall and into the bright autumn sunshine.

At first it's hard, being out in the open, even with Tyler's hand holding his steadily, and he is jumpy, eyes shifting warily as he tries to scan every person's face on the street, afraid of the one he could recognize. But Kieran is nowhere to be seen, and after a while, Josh allows himself to relax. 

It starts to get easier and easier to pretend, to look at this as if they were just two normal people, just two people walking down the street hand in hand, just a couple like anyone else. It's make pretend, but Josh feels safer that way and he doesn't let the sensation go. He needs it.

He hasn't been at the beach in months, and when they stand on the edge of the pavement and look down onto the waves and the thousands of people gathering on the sand, he remembers why. It's too crowded, too much, and his skin burns faster than he would like to admit. He regrets only having put on a vest, his shoulders already stinging in the dry heat. He'll definitely get a sunburn if they stay longer, but Tyler doesn't seem to notice. He has his eyes closed, the sun casting the prettiest sharp shadows on his face, framing it perfectly, and Josh gets lost. 

Tyler is probably too beautiful for his own good, and Josh shuffles closer to him, intertwines their arms, rests his head on his shoulder, closes his eyes too even thought he doesn't know why. The screeches of the seagulls circling above the whole scenario almost make him flinch. He doesn't understand how Tyler isn't overwhelmed by the noise.

As if he has read his mind, Tyler speaks up softly.

"If you listen closely, you can still hear the ocean over all the voices. You just have to pay attention."

Josh hums doubtfully, but he focuses, furrows his brows. He tries to let the voices disintegrate into nothing but white noise, and -- there it is, the soft sound of waves kissing the sand, rolling ashore with eternal movement. It's beautiful, he realizes, the way he can relax into the sound now that the voices have become mere background noise. The ocean doesn't care about him, doesn't care about the business of the world or the people, and somehow, that is a very comforting thought. There was so much out there, so much that nothing bad had ever touched, untainted and clean and eternal, and whatever footprints he'd leave in the sand of history, they'd be washed away eventually. 

It could've been scary, the realization of just how insignificant they were, the two of them, but it wasn't. It was calming, to know that whatever was happening, now or in the future, it was just temporary.

For a second, he thinks about sharing that thought with Tyler, but Tyler's fingers sneak onto his waist, pull him closer with a soft reassuring tug, a kiss pressed onto his head and into his hair, and Josh decides that he doesn't want to talk.

 

He isn't sure how long they have been standing like that, his head heavy on Tyler's shoulder and their skin pressed together, sticky and sweaty now, but neither of them really wants to move. 

The afternoon soon dribbles into an early evening, and Josh is starting to get hungry again. They didn't have lunch, so he suggests going back home to maybe order take out again. Tyler doesn't seem too happy about the idea, fidgeting with his shirt, then curling a strand of hair in his fingers as he grins. 

"Or we go look for a fancy restaurant and I treat you to a dinner you deserve. I wanna take you on a date, is that okay?"

Josh giggles like he's back in high school, deep red cheeks as he nods.

"I don't think I've ever been on an actual date."

"Really? That's outrageous! I can't accept that."

Tyler's giddish happiness is contagious, and Josh laughs awkwardly.

"I mean, I guess I did go on a few, like, kids' dates. To the park, to a football match, but, uh, nothing like having dinner together. A proper grown up date."

Tyler laughs, intertwines their hands again. His eyes are glistening with such forceful joy that Josh feels like he's burning up under his gaze.

"Let's go find a restaurant. It's time you get your first 'proper grown up date'."


	16. oil on water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggerwarning for self-harm. Reader discretion advised. It's not graphic or extensive, but please be safe.

Josh has read a lot of books in his life.

His love for reading had started early in his life with his mum reading him bedtime stories, and as soon as he learned to read by himself he was rarely seen without a book in his hands. He wasn't picky with what he'd read -- he loved science fiction, fantasy, medieval novels, and he soon had a whole shelf filled with the various books he loved dearly, some of which he had read multiple times.

When he grew older, he started to add romantic novels, much to his brother's delight - he kept mocking Josh, teasing him about how he was 'such a girl', how he was a little princess and that he would never be a cool tough guy if he kept reading embarassing stories like that, but Josh didn't care. He liked the soft lightheartedness of those stories, how they had a happy ending almost all the time, how every struggle or fight could be overcome simply by the power of love and trust between the two protagonists. It gave him hope, and he longed to one day find someone to love as much as those people he read about.

To his own utter disappointment and even fear, Josh had soon enough realized that that wasn't how real life worked.

There wasn't a happy ending, in fact, there wasn't an ending at all. There was no passionate kiss, and then a heartwarming epilogue about how happy he was, no, there was only more pain and another struggle and another heartbreak and then more disappointment.

When he had met Tyler, he had found new hope that maybe, after all, there was a chance of a happy ending on his horizon. If the people in the books found healing through love, if they overcame any and all boundaries with their lover by their side, maybe he could do it too. 

So he threw all of his desperate need for cleansing and healing into that week with Tyler, and at first, it seemed to work.

He clung to the happiness of their days together, soaked up every honest laugh, every sign of affection, every touch of their hands or soft kiss pressed to his neck in the morning or his forehead in the evening, and he had almost forgotten about just how messed up he really was.

And then, four days after he had picked up Tyler from the airport, everything changed. It wasn't a visible change, and there was no trigger for it, there was just the lingering feeling of uneasiness that had settled into his bones the second he had woken up.

Tyler had left for work, and Josh had lost the ground underneath his feet.

 

He's been on the floor for hours, shaking, numb, raging anxiety cursing through his veins and burning him up from the inside, his mind torturing him with hundreds of images and illusions of grabbing hands, that girl above him, holding him down and suffocating him, Kieran's hands down his pants, chokehold around his throat, and the tears on his face are stinging hot as he wipes them away with cold hands. 

The shower is his sanctuary. He crawls into it, needs the pressure of heavy water hailing down on him and soaking his clothes. They're sticking to his trembling body as he gasps for air, feels caught and trapped in the refined space of the shower cabin, but the loud noise of the water stream drowns out the pain inside him and replaces it with the pain of the burning heat all over his body. He's scrubbing again, every inch of skin he can reach, fingernails scraping off skin as he tries to get himself clean, his wrists already flaring up in an angry red as he sees the first smudge of blood swirling into circular patterns in the tub and down the drain. It hurts. 

He's alive.

I'm in pain, therefore I am alive.

 

Tyler comes home to him shaking and shivering on the couch with the breeze from outside invading his living room, clothes still dripping wet as they cling to his pathetic excuse of a body. He doesn't want Tyler to see him like this, doesn't want him to know that he's just a remaindered book, one with torn out pages, ripped apart at the seams from being used in the wrong way just a few times too often. He's not one of the happy endings, he's just a tragic comedy that noone should read. 

He's being carried, carefully laid down on the bed, and as Tyler tries to cautiously rid him of his wet clothes, he fights, cries, kicks into thin air, yells at Tyler to leave him alone. 

"Fuck off!", he screams, angry with himself or Tyler or the world, "don't touch me!", and Tyler backs off, slowly, leaves him as a shattered pile of broken cries in his bed.

Please don't give up on me yet.

 

He recovers. He crawls back to Tyler, a screwed up mess, tears dry on his cheeks, and he whines and whimpers and apologizes over and over again, and Tyler embraces him, makes soothing sounds, rubs circles into his back as Josh curls up in his lap, and he knows he doesn't deserve him and he knows Tyler will realize that one day.

After a few hours, Tyler wiggles out of their embrace carefully. Josh is half alseep with exhaustion, just mumbles needily as Tyler leaves for the kitchen, every second of lost physical contact a threat to his sanity. But Tyler comes back, carrying a first aid kit he has produced out of God knows where, and he tends to the stinging wounds on Josh's wrists with calculated, affectionate movements, careful to not hurt Josh any more than necessary, and he doesn't ask and Josh is thankful.

"Thank you", he says, and he means it. He still doesn't know why Tyler hasn't run off yet, but he's too tired to ask.

"It's okay, Josh. I'm here. I'm not leaving."

Josh thinks Tyler might be a mind reader.

They're back to their former position, Josh clinging to Tyler's lap, fingernails digging into his thighs as he holds onto him, warm circles on his back, and Tyler is singing their song again.

"Stay alive, stay alive - for me", he sings, and Josh falls asleep. He doesn't deserve Tyler, he thinks, and he dreams of dark streets and faceless strangers hunting him.

 

The next day is better.

He is better.

Tyler makes breakfast, and they eat in silence, neither of them ready to talk about what has happened yesterday, even though they both know they will need to adress it at one point. It's a silent agreement when Tyler presses a kiss into Josh's palm over the kitchen table, deliberately avoiding to look at the bandages for too long. 

"Come here", he says eventually, patting on the empty seat on the couch beside him, and he has the first aid kit out again, changing Josh's bandages with proficient hands.

"There", he says, presses another kiss into Josh's palm, and Josh whinces.

"Sorry, did I -?", Tyler jumps, worry on his face, and Josh is quick to shake his head.

"No, you didn't hurt me. I'm sorry you have to do this. See me like that. I'm sorry I - I did this." He pries his hands from Tyler's grip, hides them in the pouch of his sweater, doesn't want Tyler to look at them. He's so ashamed, he thinks the guilt might eat him alive.

"Josh, it's okay. I don't judge you."

"But I do."

"It's -", Tyler struggles with words, fidgets with his shirt, nervous habit. "It's okay to need an outlet. It's not a good outlet, the way you -" Another unsure gaze, almost afraid to overstep boundaries. Josh is a caged animal, and every step could be wrong, Tyler knows. He changes the topic slightly. "Did you talk to your therapist about this?"

Josh shakes his head again, feels even more guilty. He knows he should talk to her about it, but it didn't come up yet. He knows he's lying when he tells Tyler that no, it just hadn't been a topic yet, but he would definitely talk to her about it next time. Yes, I'm going to tell her, I promise. 

"Good. There are different coping skills and mechanisms you can try, and some of them could work. It just takes time to find the right ones."

Tyler fidgets with the elastic around his wrist, and Josh wonders how he could have overlooked it before. He knows what it means, what it stands for, what it's been used for, and it sends bolts of shame through his body. He isn't the only one struggling, and he can't imagine the effort Tyler has put into building up the strength to not only save himself, but also Josh. Another wave of guilt threatens to overwhelm him as he realizes that all he does is take, take, take, and how he has never thought about the pain he has put Tyler through. Maybe he would be better off without Josh, just another burden to weigh him down.

"I'm sorry", he says, and he's not lying anymore when he assures Tyler he'll talk to his therapist. He can't expect Tyler to save him on his own. That isn't how it works, he realizes, and the thought is scary. 

Love alone can't save me, he thinks, and he's angry with all those books lying to him for all of his life.

Tyler leaves for work, and Josh leaves for the record store, and life goes on, but it's different somehow. 

 

They only have three days left before Tyler needs to go back home again, and the unavoidable end of their time together looms over Josh's head like a dark cloud.

He refuses to let it mess with him, tries to enjoy every second he has with Tyler, and he thinks he's doing quite a good job at it for all he can tell. Yesterday doesn't count, he decides.

They get back to their familiar rhythm quite fluidly after the horrors of the day before, having dinner together and cuddling up on the couch, and Tyler is pressing absent-minded kisses on Josh's hair again as the credits of some random movie neither of them has really paid attention to roll over the screen. It's still quite early, and Josh thinks it's time to talk, even though he dreads it.

"Tyler?"

"Hm?"

He doesn't know where to start, shuffling closer and resting his head in Tyler's lap again, the soothing motion of Tyler's hands carding through his hair making it somehow harder to think. 

"I think I love you."

That wasn't at all what he had planned to say. 

Tyler's hands stop in their tracks, and Josh holds his breath. He can't take it back anymore. If he said he didn't mean it, it could hurt Tyler, but what if Tyler didn't feel the same? He couldn't imagine being without him again, and the dawning shock of maybe having scared Tyler away with the sudden confession was enough to make him snap.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -- you don't have to say it back, I don't know what I was thinking, it just -"

"Shh", Tyler interrupts, and his hands are soft as he tugs on Josh's shoulders, softly nudging him until Josh is sitting up, staring at Tyler wide-eyed, and the warmth of the unmeasurable affection pouring from Tyler's eyes makes Josh's cold bones crack with the unanticipated heat suddenly roaming his veins. 

"I love you too, Josh."

It's too much to comprehend, too much to wrap his mind around. It's just there, this unfiltered knowledge that yes, he loved Tyler, with every fibre of his being, and the realization that Tyler felt the same -- it was like being thrown into the deep end of the pool and not knowing how to swim. He doesn't know how to love. He has never loved anyone, and it's scary and intimidating and he's sure he's probably bad at it.

But Tyler doesn't seem scared, he seems to be beaming with light and happiness and Josh doesn't know what to do. 

"Can I kiss you?"

His immediate reaction is to run, to scream that no, you can't do that, don't touch me, I don't want to be broken again, but he's just frozen, stuck in an endless repetition of the question, softly spoken, almost whispered. Can I kiss you? No. Maybe. I don't know. Please kiss me and never stop kissing me again and please make it all go away, I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to be afraid of you.

So he nods, even though his heart is jumping in his chest and it's almost painful, the way his body tenses and fights as Tyler reaches up, lets his thumb wander over his cheekbone, and Tyler's eyes are so warm and safe that eventually it's Josh who closes the last inches between them. He wants to feel that warmth on his skin, soak it up and relish in it and coax his empty heart back to life.

He's never kissed anyone he loved.

But now he's kissing Tyler.

It's slow and careful, every movement held back with careful measure, smooth lips against his, and his mind is blank and white and he can't think, just dissolves into Tyler's mouth with a soft gasp.

He's kissing Tyler, and he's not scared anymore. This is what he's meant to do, right in this moment, on this couch, on this day, in this city with this man and those hands on his cheeks and those lips on his mouth and if he's crying, then it's tears of happiness for the first time in his life.

"I love you", he mumbles against Tyler's lips, and Tyler just kisses him more.


	17. alone together.

The airport has lost all of its promising glory as the featherlight glass doors slide shut after them.

Josh has his hand clamped tight around Tyler's, feels as if he needs to be as close as possible, make these last minutes count, make them last. 

He's never hated to do anything as much as he hates having to let go. 

Time seems to fly, seems to head towards the unavoidable end of their time together as if it couldn't wait to separate them again.

They go about their business quietly - there is nothing to say; nothing to do to make this any easier, and even if Josh had wanted to say something, he's sure the lump in his throat is thick enough to silence whatever he could possibly think of choking out.

Tyler is just as quiet, except for a few short words with the person behind the counter at the gate.

Anxious eyes find the huge clock above the entrance to the boarding department. Ten minutes left.

Ten minutes.

"I don't want to go."

Tyler's voice is coarse and dry, crisp in the heat of the late afternoon, and the way the sunlight makes his caramel eyes glow is a stark contrast to the hard line of his mouth.

Josh doesn't know what to say, hand clenching around Tyler's, and he knows he's already crying, doesn't make a sound.

"I don't - I don't know how I'm s-supposed to - to go on with-without you", he forces out, harsh breaths as he sucks in air through gritted teeth.

"I'm not - Josh, I won't.. disappear", and there's hands cupping his face again, and everything reminds Josh so much of their first meeting, right here, this very spot, just that this time, it hurts like hell. Like tearing out a part of yourself and watching it leave with everything that ever mattered to you.

He doesn't want to remember it like this, painful. Hopeless.

"I'll see - see you again", he says, and he's trying so hard to make it feel real, to believe it, but it's impossible to not get lost in the dawning despair of the oncoming goodbye.

"I will see you again."

Tyler sounds much more sure of it than Josh does. For some reason, it just makes everything worse. He won't come back, Josh thinks. He won't. He'll be home and realize that it was fun while it lasted, but seriously, why would someone like Tyler want anything to do with someone like Josh?

"Okay", he says, and he doesn't mean it. It's not okay, but he's good at pretending. Getting better at pretending.

"I love you", Tyler says, and his words are interrupted by the crackling announcement that his flight will now board.

"I love you too", Josh says, means it, even though he knows it's hopeless.

Arms are wrapped around him, and he goes limp against Tyler, cries, has no strength left to hold it in. It's uncanny, the resemblance of one week earlier, Josh a mess and Tyler, who stands strong as a rock. 

With some sort of disinterested and distant surprise he finds his hands fisted into a tight grip in Tyler's shirt, knuckles white, almost forcibly. He hadn't even realized he'd moved.

"Don't go", he squeaks, and he sounds so pathetic that his own voice makes him shake with disgust. 

"Josh.. I have to. But I promise, I'll be back. I promise. I love you."

Violently, Josh's hands tear away from Tyler's shirt, and this time he does so consciously, forces himself to take a step back, nods, tries to regain his composure. Don't be so goddamn needy. Don't give him any more reasons to never come back.

"Okay. I love you too." A pause, still trying hard to pull himself together. "Text me when you're home?" _If you want to. I understand if you don't_ , he wants to add, but he doesn't. No need to make himself sound even more appalling. 

If Tyler notices his sudden change in tone, he doesn't say.

"I will."

There's another announcement, a last call, and Tyler gets ahold of his suitcase and starts to make his way towards the gate.

Josh is almost inclined to turn around and just walk away - doesn't want to prolong the pain - when a loud thud echoes through the hall, a suitcase carelessly thrown to the ground, and then Tyler's hands are in his neck and he's being pulled close. Hungry, desperate lips find his, salty from tears Josh hadn't even noticed, so wrapped up in his own despair that he failed to concede any and all feelings to Tyler.

It has all the forlorness of a last kiss, trembling hands, shaky legs, tears, and then it's over and Tyler is leaving, not turning around anymore, hunched over, a barely hidden hand wiping the remains of tears out of his face as the stewardess checks his ticket, and then the door closes behind him and Josh is alone again.

 

***

 

He's been alone before. He knows how it should feel, knows how his apartment will look, empty and messy, knows how the streets of LA feel when you walk them on your own, knows how it feels to be alone in the back of a cab. He knows how it should feel. And then he's turning the keys to the door of his apartment and stills in the doorway and nothing feels the same.

If his apartment has been empty before - now it's a void, a maelstrom of pain, a swirling black hole filled with the most mesmerizing memories of what felt like a lifetime but was merely a single week. Everything reminds him of Tyler.

Everything reminds him of Tyler, and the fact that he isn't there anymore.

He decides to sit down on the couch, doesn't know what else he's supposed to do now that Tyler is gone. How does one continue their life of loneliness and reclusiveness after realizing that there was another way? One that didn't hurt all the time? One that made sense, gave purpose, felt so utterly and completely _right_?

He doesn't know. 

There's two lonely, empty cereal bowls on the kitchen counter, one for him, one for Tyler who isn't here anymore. A half-eaten bag of chips on the coffee table where they'd left it last night, too tired to even think of cleaning up before bed, and there's a sweater... that definitely doesn't belong to Josh.

Before he can consciously mak ethe decision, he slips into it, pulls it over his head and inhales deeply, overwhelmed by the comforting and familiar scent of Tyler, Tyler, Tyler, and he doesn't ever want to take it off again, just keeps his nose buried in the fabric. 

There's no way for him to tell how much time has passed when his phone buzzes, isn't even sure if he's been asleep or awake, so drained of any kind of emotion that he feels like he's slowly falling off the face of earth and into some other dimension that is nothing but him, this sweater, and the allconsuming loneliness that has a cold grip on him, unforgiving. But his phone is buzzing, and he doesn't even dare to allow himself the tiniest spark of hope that it's Tyler.

Rationally, he knows he shouldn't be this afraid. He knows it's unfair to think about Tyler as if he'd throw Josh away like a used tissue. He knows all that, and still he can't help the incredible relief when he grabs the phone and sees Tyler's name on the screen.

He picks up.

"Hey!"

"Hey! I just landed, and gosh, it's so cold, I'm literally freezing my butt off."

Tyler's teeth are actually chattering, Josh can hear it through the phone line.

"Uh, please don't. As a matter of fact, I kinda like your butt."

He suppresses a giggle, and subconsciously scolds himself for ever thinking Tyler would leave him. If he felt just half of what Josh felt for him, he wouldn't be able to, not for anything in the world.

Tyler's laugh is heartily and warm, and Josh can feel goosebumps rise on his skin, shivers comfortably. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad. They'd started out with just talking, just chatting, just texting, so maybe, after all, they could get by on that until next time. 

He realizes Tyler has been talking while he's been drifting off in his thoughts and focuses on his words - though his voice is weirdly distorted through the phone, it's still so Tyler.

"... anyways, I can't wait to be back in LA so I don't have to even see this ugly excuse of a parka for another week. Or two. Or actually, I wouldn't mind never seeing it again."

The implications of that make Josh's heart race, even though he assumes Tyler is just joking. He wouldn't actually move here, no way.

"Josh? Are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry, I - was distracted. By your voice. I'm gonna miss that. Talking to you every day, I mean."

"You won't have to miss it again if you don't want to. I was planning on calling everyday, if that's okay."

Josh smiles into the phone, nuzzles into the sweater. "I'd like that." A short pause, then: "I'm wearing your sweater. Smells good."

"Oh, about that..." Tyler's voice sounds like he's smiling too, grinning. "I kinda left it there on purpose. And, um, I might have borrowed one of yours in return. I hope that's alright. Just.. I don't know. Wanted to have something that reminds me of you."

Now he's full on blushing, sinks deeper into the couch. "Yeah, that's alright. Cool. I mean - yeah." Eloquent as always, he thinks. 

They're silent for a few moments, then Tyler clears his throat. "Okay, um, my mum is here to pick me up. Insisted on doing that, wanted to make sure I am safely back at home or something. Probably thought the LA heat would take me out on day one."

"Oh, okay", he says, trying to hide the slight sting of disappointment in his voice. He doesn't wanna hang up.

"Hey, can we skype tonight? When I'm home?"

"Sure. I'll be here." A pause. "Have fun with your parents."

"Yeah, um, I'll try." 

Tyler's voice seems different when he says that, and Josh makes a mental note to maybe ask Tyler about his parents sometime. 

"Okay. I'll see you tonight. Love you, Ty."

"Bye, Josh", Tyler says, and Josh waits for Tyler to continue, to say 'love you too', anything, but there's nothing except a click in the line and then - silence.

For a few minutes, Josh is quietly brooding on his couch about the fact that he didn't say it, and then his phone buzzes again, with a text this time.

**I love you too.**

_okay_

**Sorry. My mum.. it's complicated.**

_she doesnt know?_

**That I'm into guys?**

_yeah_

**No.**

_oh_

**She wouldn't understand.**

**Sorry.**

_its okay_

**It really isn't.**

_im not out to anyone either_

_i dont even know if im gay or bi or whatever so its okay, really_

_not everyone needs to know everything_

_i love you no matter what_

**Thank you. I love you too, no matter what.**

Josh smiles at his phone again, and even though the thought of Tyler having to hide his true self is a painful one, he tries to focus on the last text. I love you too, no matter what - that isn't anything Josh had ever expected to read in his life, not directed at him, anyways. His thoughts wander back to the books he used to read, and if he starts to maybe, possibly believe in happy endings again - it's definitely, absolutely Tyler's fault.

**Author's Note:**

> alex tries multichap i guess!!! comments are wildly appreciated


End file.
